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<J • S- C" ABBOTT 



Daniel Boone 



Pioneer of Kentucky 



By 



JOHN S. C. ABBOTT 
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New York 

Dodd, Mead and Company 

1898 



•Bns 11724 



Library of ConfjreKR 
Two COf'fS ^fCF»V€3 

JUN 28 I9C0 

SCCXNft COPV, 

OP0£R 9lV4SiON, 

Copyright, 1S72, 



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PREFACE. 

The name of Daniel Boone is a conspicuous one in 
the annals of our country. And yet there are but 
few who are familiar with the events of his wonderful 
career, or who have formed a correct estimate of the 
character of the man. Many suppose that he was a 
rough, coarse backwoodsman, almost as savage as the 
bears he pursued in the chase, or the Indians whose 
terrors he so perseveringly braved. Instead of this 
he was one of the most mild and unboastful of men ; 
feminine as a woman in his tastes and his deport- 
ment, never uttering a coarse word, never allowing- 
himself in a rude action. He was truly one of nature's 
gentle men. With all this instinctive refinement and 
delicacy, there was a boldness of character which 
seemed absolutely incapable of experiencing the 
emotion of fear. And surely all the records of chivalr> 
may be searched in vain for a career more full of peril 
and of wild adventure. 

This narrative reveals a state of society and habi- 
tudes of life now rapidly passing into oblivion. It is 



IV 

very desirable that the record should be perpetuated, 
that we may know the scenes through which out 
fathers passed, in laying the foundations of this majes- 
tic Republic. It is probable that as the years roll on 
the events which occurred in the infancy of our nation 
will be read with ever-increasing interest. 

It is the intention of the publisher of this volume to 
issue a series of sketches of the prominent men in the 
early history of our country. The next volume will 
contain the life and adventures of the renowned Miles 
Standish, the Puritan Captain. 

JOHN S. C. ABBOTT 

Fair Haven, Conn. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Faob 

Oiscoyery of the New World. — Of Florida. — Conquest «nd cra- 

elties of DeSoto. — The Wigwam. — Colony at St. Mary. — Sir 

Walter Releigh and his Colonies. — Grant of King James. — 

Settlements in the Virginia. — Adventures of John Smith.— 

Arrival of Lord Delaware — Terrible massacres. — Pressures 

of Colonists to the West. — Doherty Trade with Indians.— 

Attempted Colony on the Tennessee. — Daniel Boone 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Trials of the Colonists. — George Boone and his home. — Squire 
Boone. — Birth and character of Daniel Boone. — His limited 
education. — A pioneer's camp. — A log house and furnish- 
ings. — Annoyance of Boone on the arrival of Scotch emi- 
grants. — His longings for adventure. — Camp meetings. — 
Frontier life. — Sports. — Squirrel hunting. — Snuffing the 
candle 36 

CHAPTER III. 

Louisiana, and its eventful history. — The expedition of DeSoto. 
—The Missionary Marquette. — His voyage on the Upper 
Mississippi. — The Expedition of La Salle. — Michilimackl- 
nac — Its History. — Fate of the " Griffin."— Grief of La 
Salle. — His voyage of Discovery. — Sale of Louisiana to the 
Ikiited State. — ^Remarks of Napoleon 74 



^ CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK I f. 

Paoi 
John Finley and his adventures. — Aspect of the Country.— 
Boone's Private Character. — His Love for the Wilderness. 
First view of Kentucky. — Emigrants' Dress. — Hunter's 
Home. — Capture of Boone and Stewart by the Indians.— 
Their Escape. — Singular Incident 8t 

CHAPTER V. 

Alleghany Ridges. — Voyage in a canoe. — Speech of Logan.— 
Battle at the Kanawha. — Narrative of Francis Marion.— 
Important commission of Boone. — Council at Circleville. — 
Treaty of Peace. — Imlay's description of Kentucky. — Settle- 
ment right. — Richard Henderson. — Boone's letter. — Fort 
at Boonesborough , 109 

CHAPTER VI. 

Emigration to Boonesborough. — New Perils. — Transylvania 
Company. — Beneficence of its Laws — Interesting incident. 
■—Infamous conduct of Great Britain. — Attack on the Fort. 
—Reinforcements. — Simon Kenton and his Sufferings. — 
Mrs. Harvey 129 

CHAPTRE VII. 

Stewart killed by the Indians. — Squire Boone returns to the 
Settlements.— Solitary Life of Daniel Boone. — Return of 
Squire Boone. — Extended and Romantic Explorations. — 
Charms and Perils of the Wilderness. — The Emigrant Party. 
— The Fatal Ambuscade. — Retreat of the Emigrants.— 
Solitude of the Wilderness. — Expedition of Lewis and 
Clarke. — Extraordinary Adventures of Cotter 151 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Heroism of Thomas Higgins and of Mrs. Pursley. — Affairs at 
Boonesborough.^ — Continued Alarms. — Need of Salt. — Its 



CONTENTS. VII 

Pagb 

Manufacture. — Indian Schemes. — Capture of Boone and 
twenty-seven men. — Dilemma of the British at Detroit. — 
Blackfish adopts Colonel Boone. — Adoption Ceremony.— 
Indian Designs. — Escape of Boone.— Attacks the Savages. 
—The Fort Threatened 182 

CHAPTER IX. 

Situation of the Fort. — Indian Treachery. — Bombardment, — 
Boone goes to North Carolina. — New Trials. — Boone 
Robbed. — He returns to Kentucky. — Massacre of Colonel 
Rogers. — Adventure of Col. Bowman. — New Attack by the 
British and Indians. — Retaliatory Measures. — Wonderful 
Exploit 209 

CHAPTER X. 

Death of Squire Boone. — Indian Outrages. — Gerty and McQee. 
— Battle of Blue Lick. — Death of Isaac Boone. — Colonel 
Boone's Narrow Escape. — Letter of Daniel Boone.— Deter- 
mination of General Clarke. — Discouragement of the 
Savages. — Amusing Anecdote of Daniel Boone 230 

CHAPTER XL 

Peace with England. — Order of a Kentucky Conrt. — Anecdotea. 

Speech of Mr. Dalton. — Reply of Plankashaw.— Renewed 
Indications of Indian Hostility. — Conventions at Danville. 
— Kentucky formed into a State. — New Trials for Boone. . . 24^ 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Search for the Horse. — Navigating the Ohio. — Heroism of 
Mrs. Rowan. — Lawless Gangs. — Exchange of Prisoners.— 
Boone Revisits the Home of his Childhood. — The Realms 
beyond the Mississippi. — Habits of the Hunters. — Com.— 
Boone's Journey to the West 271 



VIII CONTENTS. 

Paok 
CHAPTER XIII. 

Colonel Boone welcomed by the Spanish Authorities, — Boone'i 
Narrative to Audubon. — The Midnight Attack. — Purstiit 
of the Savages, — Sickness in the Wilderness, — Honesty of 
Colonel Boone, — Payment of hie Debts. — Losg of all his 
Property 291 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Crolonel Boone Appeals to Congress. — Complimentary Resolu- 
tions of the Legislature of Kentucky. — Death of Mrs. Boone. 
—Catholic Liberality. — Itinerant Preachers. — Grant by 
Congress to Colonel Boone . — The Evening of his Days. — 
Personal Appearance. — Death and Burial. — Transference of 
the Remains of Mr. and Mrs. Boone to Francfort, Kentucky. 320 



CHAPTER I. 
The Discovery and early Settlement of America* 

IHscovery of the New World. — Of Florida. — Conquest and orueltiefi 
of Desoto. — The wigwam. — Colony at St. Mary. — Sir "Walt«i 
Belelgh and his Colonies. — Grant of King James. — Settlements 
In the Virginia. — Adventures of John Smith. — Arrival of Lord 
Delaware. — ^Terrible massacres. — Pressures of Colonists to the 
West. — Doherty Trade with Indians. — Attempted Colony on the 
Tennessee. — Daniel Boone. 

The little fleet of three small vessels, with which 
Columbus left Pales in Spain, in search of a new 
world, had been sixty-seven days at sea. They had 
traversed nearly three thousand miles of ocean, and 
yet there was nothing but a wide expanse of waters 
spread out before them. The despairing crew were 
loud in their murmurs, demanding that the expedition 
should be abandoned and that the ships should return 
to Spain. The morning of the nth of October, 1492, 
had come. During the day Columbus, whose heart 
had been very heavily oppressed with anxiety, had 
been cheered by some indications that they were 
approaching land. Fresh seaweed was occasionally 
seen and a branch of a shrub with leaves and berries 
upon it, and a piece of wood curiously carved had 
been picked up. 



lO DANIEL BOONE. 

The devout commander was so animated by these 
indications, that he gathered his crew around him and 
returned heartfelt thanks to God, for this prospect 
that their voyage would prove successful. It was a 
beautiful night, the moon shone brilliantly and a deli- 
cious tropical breeze swept the ocean. At ten o'clock 
Columbus stood upon the bows of his ship earnestly 
gazing upon the western horizon, hoping that the 
long-looked-for land would rise before him. Suddenly 
he was startled by the distinct gleam of a torch far off 
in the distance. For a moment it beemed forth with 
a clear and indisputable flame and then disappeared. 
The agitation of Columbus no words can describe. 
Was it a meteor ? Was it an optical illusion ? Was it 
light from the land ? 

Suddenly the torch, like a star, again shone forth 
with distinct though faint gleam. Columbus called 
some of his companions to his side and they also 
saw the light clearly. But again it disappeared. At 
two o'clock in the morning a sailor at the look out on 
the mast head shooted, " Land ! land ! land ! " In a 
few moments all beheld, but a few miles distant from 
them, the distinct outline of towering mountains 
piercing the skies. A new world was discovered. 
Cautiously the vessels hove to and waited for the 
light of the morning. The dawn of day presented 
to the eyes of Columbus and his companions a spec* 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 1 1 

tacle of beauty which the garden of Eden could hardly 
have rivalled. It was a morning of the tropics, calm 
serene and lovely. But two miles before them there 
emerged from the sea an island of mountains and 
valleys, luxuriant with every variety of tropical ve- 
getation. The voyagers, weary of gazing for many 
weeks on the wide waste of waters, were so enchanted 
with the fairy scene which then met the eye, that they 
seemed really to believe that they had reached the 
realms of the blest. 

The boats were lowered, and, as they were rowed 
towards the shore, the scene every moment grew more 
beautiful. Gigantic trees draped in luxuriance of 
foliage hitherto unimagined, rose in the soft valleys 
and upon the towering hills. In the sheltered groves, 
screened from the sun, the picturesque dwellings of 
the natives were thickly clustered. Flowers of every 
variety of tint bloomed in marvellous profusion. The 
trees seemed laden with fruits of every kind, and 
in inexhaustible abundance. Thousands of natives 
crowded the shore, whose graceful forms and exqui- 
sitely moulded limbs indicated the innocence and sim- 
plicity of Eden before the fall. 

Columbus, richly attired in a scarlet dress, fell upon 
his knees as he reached the beach, and, with clasped 
hands and uplifted eyes, gave utterance to the devout 
feelings which ever inspired him, in thanksgiving to 



12 DANIEL BOONE. 

God. In recognition of the divine protection he gave 
the island the name of San Salvador, or Holy Savior, 
Though the new world thus discovered was one of 
the smallest islands of the Caribbean Sea, no concep- 
tion wsLS then formed of the vast continents of North 
and South America, stretching out in both directions, 
for many leagues almost to the Arctic and Antarctic 
poles. 

Omitting a description of the wonderful adventures 
which ensued, we can only mention that two years 
after this, the southern extremity of the North Amer- 
ican continent was discovered by Sebastian Cabot. 
It was in the spring of the year and the whole surface 
of the soil seemed carpeted with the most brilliant 
flowers. The country consequently received the beau- 
tiful name of Florida. It, of course, had no boun- 
daries, for no one knew with certainty whether it were 
an island or a continent, or how far its limits might 
extend. 

The years rolled on and gradually exploring excur- 
sions crept along the coast towards the north, various 
provinces were mapped out with pretty distinct boun- 
daries upon tlie Atlantic coast, extending indefinitely 
into the vast and unknown interior. Expeditions 
from France had entered the St. Lawrence and estab« 
lished settlements in Canada. For a time the whole 
Atlantic coast, from its extreme southern point to 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 1 3 

Canada, was called Florida In the year 1539, Fer- 
dinand de Soto, an unprincipled Spanish warrior, who 
had obtained renown by the conquest of Peru in 
South America, fitted out by permission of the king 
of Spain, an expedition of nearly a thousand men to 
conquer and take possession of that vast and indefi- 
nite realm called Florida. 

We have no space here to enter upon a description 
of the fiendlike cruelties practiced by these Spaniards. 
They robbed and enslaved without mercy. In pur- 
suit of gold they wandered as far north as the pre- 
sent boundary of South Carolina. Then turning to 
the west, they traversed the vast region to the Missis- 
sippi river. The forests were full of game. The gran- 
aries of the simple-hearted natives were well stored 
with corn ; vast prairies spreading in all directions 
around them, waving with grass and blooming with 
flowers, presented ample forage for the three hundred 
horses which accompanied the expedition. They 
were also provided with fierce bloodhounds to hunt 
down the terrified natives. Thus invincible and armed 
with the " thunder and lightning " of their guns, they 
swept the country, perpetrating every conceivable 
outrage upon the helpless natives. 

After long and unavailing wanderings in search ol 
gold, having lost by sickness and the casualties of 
such an expedition nearly half their number, the 



14 DANIEL BOONE. 

remainder built boats upon the Mississippi, descended 
that rapid stream five hundred miles to its mouth, 
and then skirting the coast of Texas, finally disap- 
peared on the plains of Mexico. De Soto, the leader 
of this conquering band, died miserably on the Mis- 
sissippi, and was buried beneath its waves. 

The whole country which these adventurers tra- 
versed, they found to be quite densely populated with 
numerous small tribes of natives, each generally wan- 
dering within circumscribed limits. Though these 
tribes spoke different languages, or perhaps different 
dialects of the same language, they were essentially 
the same in appearance, manners and customs. They 
were of a dark-red color, well formed and always dis- 
posed to receive the pale face strangers with kind- 
liness, until exasperated by ill-treatment. They lived 
in fragile huts called wigwams, so simple in their 
structure that one could easily be erected in a few 
hours. These huts were generally formed by setting 
long and slender poles in the ground, inclosing an 
area of from ten to eighteen feet in diameter, accord- 
ing to the size of the family. The tops were tied 
together, leaving a hole for the escape of smoke from 
the central fire. The sides were thatched with coarse 
grass, or so covered with the bark of trees, as quite 
effectually to exclude both wind and rain. There were 
no windows, light entering only throi^h the almost 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 1 5 

always open door. The ground floor was covered 
with dried grass, or the skins of animals, or with the 
soft and fragrant twigs of some evergreen tree. 

The inmates, men, women and children, seated 
upon these cushions, presented a very attractive 
and cheerful aspect. Several hundred of these wig- 
wams were frequently clustered upon some soft 
meadow by the side of a flowing stream, fringed with 
a gigantic forest, and exhibited a spectacle of pictu- 
resque loveliness quite charming to the beholder. The 
furniture of these humble abodes was extremely 
simple. They had no pots or kettles which would 
stand the fire. They had no knives nor forks ; no 
tables nor chairs. Sharp flints, such as they could 
find served for knives, with which, with incredible 
labor, they sawed down small trees and fashioned 
their bows and arrows. They had no roads except 
foot paths through the wilderness, which for genera- 
tions their ancestors had traversed, called "trails." 
They had no beasts of burden, no cows, no flocks nor 
herds of any kind. They generally had not even 
salt, but cured their meat by drying it in the sun. 
They had no ploughs, hoes, spades, consequently they 
could only cultivate the lightest soil. With a sharp 
stick, women loosened the earth, and then depositing 
their com or maize, cultivated it in the rudest 
manner. 



l6 DANIEL BOONE. 

These Indians acquired the reputation of being very 
faithful friends, but very bitter enemies. It was said 
they never forgot a favor, and never forgave an insult 
They were cunning rather than brave. It was seldom 
that an Indian could be induced to meet a foe in an 
open hand-to-hand fight But he would track him 
for years, hoping to take him unawares and to brain 
him with the tomahawk, or pierce his heart with the 
flint-pointed arrow. 

About the year 1565, a company of French Pro- 
testants repaired to Florida, hoping there to find the 
liberty to worship God in accordance with their inter- 
pretation of the teachings of the Bible. They estab- 
lished quite a flourishing colony, at a place which they 
named St. Marys, near the coast This was the first 
European settlement on the continent of North Am- 
erica. The fanatic Spaniards, learning that Protestants 
had taken possession of the country, sent out an 
expedition and utterly annihilated the settlement, 
putting men, women and children to the sword. Many 
of these unfortunate Protestants were hung in chains 
from trees under the inscription, " Not as Frenchmen 
but as Heretics^ The blood-stained Spaniards then 
established themselves at a spot near by, which they 
called St Augustine. A French gentleman of wealth 
fitted out a well-manned and well-armed expedition 
of three ships attacked the murderers by surprise and 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA, i; 

put them to death. Several corpses were suspended 
from trees, under the inscription, " Not as Spaniards^ 
but as Murderers^ 

There was an understanding among the powers of 
Europe, that any portion of the New World discov- 
ered by expeditions from European courts, should be 
recognised as belonging to that court. The Spaniards 
had taken possession in Florida. Far away a thousand 
leagues to the North, the French had entered the gulf 
of St Lawrence. But little was known of the vast 
region between. A young English gentleman, Sir 
Walter Raleigh, an earnest Protestant, and one who 
had fought with the French Protestants in their reli- 
gious wars, roused by the massacre of his friends in 
Florida, applied to the British court to fit out a colony 
to take possession of the intermediate country. He 
hoped thus to prevent the Spanish monarchy, and the 
equally intolerant French court, from spreading their 
principles over the whole continent. The Protestant 
Queen Elisabeth then occupied the throne of Great 
Britain. Raleigh was young, rich, handsome and mar- 
velously fascinating in his address. He became a 
great favorite of the maiden queen, and she gave him 
a commission, making him lord of all the continent 
of North America, between Florida and Canada. 

The whole of this vast region without any accurate 
boundaries, was called Virginia. Several ships were 



1 8 DANIEL BOONE. 

sent to exploie the country. They reached the coast 
of what is now called North Carolina, and the adven- 
turers landed at Roanoke Island. They were charmed 
with the climate, with the friendliness of the natives 
and with the majestic growth of the forest trees, far 
surpassing anything they had witnessed in the Old 
World. Grapes in rich clusters hung in profusion on 
the vines, and birds of every variety of song and 
plumage filled the groves. The expedition returned 
to England with such glowing accounts of the realm 
they had discovered, that seven ships were fitted out, 
conveying one hundred and eight men, to colonise 
the island. It is quite remarkable that no women 
accompanied the expedition. Many of these men 
were reckless adventurers. Bitter hostility soon sprang 
up between them and the Indians, who at first had 
received them with the greatest kindness. 

Most of these colonists were men unaccustomed 
to work, and who insanely expected that in the New 
World, in some unknown way, wealth was to flow in 
upon them like a flood. Disheartened, homesick and 
appalled by the hostile attitude which the much op- 
pressed Indians were beginning to assume, they were 
all anxious to return home. When, soon after, some 
ships came bringing them abundant supplies, they 
with one accord abandoned the colony, and crowding 
the vessels returned to England. Fifteen men howevef 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 19 

consented to remain, to await the arrival of fresh 
colonists from the Mother Country. 

Sir Walter Raleigh, still undiscouraged, in the next 
year 1587 sent out another fleet containing a number 
of families as emigrants, with women and children. 
When they arrived, they found Roanoke deserted. The 
fifteen men had been murdered by the Indians in 
retaliation for the murder of their chief and several of 
his warriors by the English. With fear and trembling 
the new settlers decided to remain, urging the friends 
who had accompanied them to hasten back to England 
with the ships and bring them reinforcements and 
supplies. Scarcely had they spread their sails on the 
return voyage ere war broke out with Spain. It was 
three years before another ship crossed the ocean, to 
see what had become of the colony. It had utterly 
disappeared. Though many attempts were made to 
ascertain its tragic fate, all were unavailing. It is 
probable that many were put to death by the Indians, 
and perhaps the children were carried far back into 
the interior and incorporated into their tribes. This 
bitter disappointment seemed to paralyse the energies 
of colonization. For more than seventy years the 
Carolinas remained a wilderness, with no attempt to 
transfer to them the civilization of the Old World. Still 
English ships continued occasionally to visit the coast 
Some came to fish, some to purchase furs of the 



20 DANIEL BOONE. 

Indians, and some for timber for shipbuilding, The 
stories which these voyagers told on their return, 
kept up an interest in the New World. It was indeed 
an attractive picture which could be truthfully painted. 
The climate was mild, genial and salubrious. The 
atmosphere surpassed the far-famed transparency of 
Italian skies. The forests were of gigantic growth, 
more picturesquely beautiful than any ever planted 
by man's hand, and they were filled with game. The 
lakes and streams swarmed with fish. A wilderness 
of flowers, of every variety of loveliness, bloomed over 
the wide meadows and the broad savannahs, which 
the forest had not yet invaded. Berries and fruits 
were abundant. In many places the soil was surpass- 
ingly rich, and easily tilled ; and all this was open, 
without money and without price, to the first comer. 

Still more than a hundred years elapsed after the 
discovery of these realms, ere any permanent settle- 
ment was effected upon them. Most of the bays, 
harbors and rivers were unexplored, and reposed as 
it were in the solemn silence of eternity. From the 
everglades of Florida to the firclad hills of Nova 
Scotia, not a settlement of white men could be found. 

At length in the year 1607, a number of wealthy 
gentlemen in London formed a company to make a 
new attempt for the settlement of America. It was 
their plan to send out hardy colonists, abundantly 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 21 

provided with arms, tools and provisions. King 
James I., who had succeeded his cousin Queen EHza- 
beth, granted them a charter, by which, wherever they 
might effect a landing, they were to be the undisputed 
lords of a territory extending a hundred miles along 
the coast, and running back one hundred miles into 
the interior. Soon after, a similar grant was conferred 
upon another association, for the region of North 
Virginia, now called New England. 

Under the protection of this London Company, one 
hundred and five men, with no women or children, 
embarked in three small ships for the Southern 
Atlantic coast of North America. Apparently by 
accident, they entered Chesapeake Bay, where they 
found a broad and deep stream, whicn they named 
after their sovereign, James River. As they ascended 
this beautiful stream, they were charmed with the 
loveliness which nature had spread so profusely around 
♦■hem Upon the northern banks of the river, about 
fifty miles from its entrance into the bay, they selected 
a spot for their settlement, which they named James- 
town Here they commenced cutting down trees and 
raising their huts. 

In an enterprise of this kind, muscles mured to work 
and determined spirits ready to grapple with diffi- 
culties, are essential. In such labors, the most useless 
of all beings is the gentleman with soft hands and 



22 DANIEL BOONE. 

luxurious habits. Unfortunately quite a number of 
pampered sons of wealth had joined the colony. 
Being- indolent, selfish and dissolute, they could do 
absolutely nothing for the prosperity of the settlement, 
but were only an obstacle in the way of its growth. 

1 roubles soon began to multiply, and but for the 
energies of a remarkable man, Capt. John Smith, the 
colony must soon have perished through anarchy. 
But even Capt. John Smith v/ith all his commanding 
powers, and love of justice and of law, could not pre- 
vent the idle and profligate young men from insulting 
the natives, and robbing them of their corn. With 
the autumnal rains sickness came, and many died. 
The hand of well-organised industry might have 
raised an ample supply of corn to meet all their wants 
through the short winter. But this had been neglected, 
and famine was added to sickness, Capt. Smith had 
so won the confidence of the Indian chieftains, that 
notwithstanding the gross irregularities of his young 
men, they brought him supplies of corn and game, 
which they freely gave to the English in their desti- 
tution. 

Captain Smith having thus provided for the necessi- 
ties of the greatly diminished colony, set out with a 
small party of men on an exploring expedition into 
the interior. He was waylayed by Indians, who with 
arrows ai?d tomahawks speed'ly put all the men to 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 23 

death, excepting the leader, who was taken captive. 
There was something in the demeanor of this brave 
man which overawed them. He showed them his 
pocket compass, upon which they gazed with wonder. 
He then told them that if they would send to the fort a 
leaf from his pocket-book, upon which he had made 
several marks with his pencil, they would find the 
next day, at any spot they might designate, a certain 
number of axes, blankets, and other articles of great 
value to them. Their curiosity was exceedingly 
aroused ; the paper was sent, and the next day the 
articles were found as promised. The Indians looked 
upon Captain Smith as a magician, and treated 
him with great respect. Still the more thoughtful of 
the natives regarded him as a more formidable foe. 
They could not be blind to the vastly superior power 
of the English in their majestic ships, with their long 
swords, and terrible fire-arms, and all the develop- 
ments, astounding to them, of a higher civilization. 
They were very anxious in view of encroachments 
which might eventually give the English the supre- 
macy in their land, 

Powhatan, the king of the powerful tribe who had 
at first been very friendly to the English, summoned 
a council of war of his chieftains, and after long 
deliberation, it was decided that Captain Smith was 
too powerful a man t^) be allowed to live, and that he 



24 DANIEL BOONE. 

must die. He was accordingly led out to execution, 
but without any of the ordinary accompaniments of 
torture. His hands were bound behind him, he was 
laid upon the ground, and his head was placed upon 
a stone. An Indian warrior of herculean strength 
stood by, with a massive club, to give the death 
blow by crushing in the scull. Just as the fatal stroke 
was about to descend, a beautiful Indian girl, Poca- 
hontas, the daughter of the king, rushed forward and 
throwing her arms around the neck of Captain Smith, 
placed her head upon his. The Indians regarded this 
as an indication from the Great Spirit that the life of 
Captain Smith was to be spared, and they set their 
prisoner at liberty, who, being thus miraculously 
rescued, returned to Jamestown. 

By his wisdom Captain Smith preserved for some 
time friendly relations with the Indians, and the 
colony rapidly increased, until there were five hundred 
Europeans assembled at Jamestown. Capt. Smith 
being severely wounded by an accidental explosion of 
gunpowder, returned to England for surgical aid. 
The colony, thus divested of his vigorous sway, 
speedily lapsed into anarchy. The bitter hostility oi 
the Indians was aroused, and, within a few months, 
the colony dwindled away beneath the ravages of 
sickness, famine, and the arrows of the Indians, to but 
sixty men. Desj)air reigned in all hearts, and this 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 2$ 

starving remnant of Europeans was preparing to 
abandon the colony and return to the Old World, when 
Lord Delaware arrived with several ships loaded with 
provisions and with a reinforcement of hardy laborers. 
Most of the idle and profligate young men who had 
brought such calamity upon the colony, had died. 
Those who remained took fresh courage, and affairs 
began to be more prosperous. 

The organization of the colony had thus far been 
effected with very little regard to the wants of human 
nature. There were no women there. Without the 
honored wife there cannot be the happy home ; and 
without the home there can be no contentment. To 
herd together five hundred men upon the banks of a 
foreign stream, three thousand miles from their native 
land, without women and children, and to expect them 
to lay the foundation of a happy and prosperous colony, 
seems almost unpardonable lolly. 

Emigrants began to arrive with their families, and 
in the year 1620, one hundred and fifty poor, but 
virtuous young women, were induced to join the 
Company, Each young man who came received one 
hundred acres of land. Eagerly these young planters, 
in short courtship, selected wives from such of these 
women as they could induce to listefy to them Each 
man paid one hundred and fifty pounds of tobacco to 
defray the expenses of his wife's voyage. But th<j 



26 DANIEL BOONE. 

Wickedness of man will everywhere, and under all 
circumstances, make fearful development of its power. 
Many desperadoes joined the colony. The poor 
Indians with no weapons of war but anows, clubs and 
stone tomahawks, were quite at the mercy of the 
English with their keen swords, and death-dealing 
muskets. Fifteen Europeans could easily drive several 
hundred Indians in panic over the plains. Unprinci- 
pled men perpetrated the grossest outrages upon the 
families of the Indians, often insulting the proudest 
chiefs. 

The colonists were taking up lands in all directions. 
Before their unerring rifles, game was rapidly 
disappearing. The Indians became fully awake to 
their danger. The chiefs met in council, and a 
conspiracy was formed, to put, at an appointed hour, 
all the English to death, every man, woman and child 
Every house was marked. Two or three Indians were 
appointed to make the massacre sure in each dwelling. 
They were to spread over the settlement, enter the 
widely scattered log-huts, as friends, and at a certain 
moment were to spring upon their unsuspecting 
victims, and kill them instantly. The plot was 
fearfully successful in all the dwellings outside the 
little village of Jamestown. In one hour, on the 22nd 
of March, 1622, three hundred and forty-seven men, 
women and children were massacred in cold blood 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 2*f 

The colony would have been annihilated, but for a 
Christian Indian who, just before the massacre com- 
menced, gave warning to a friend in Jamestown. The 
Europeans rallied with their fire-arms, and easily 
drove off their foes, and then commenced the unre- 
lenting extermination of the Indians. An arrow can 
be thrown a few hundred feet, a musket ball more than 
as many yards. The Indians were consequently 
helpless. The English shot down both sexes, young 
and old, as mercilessly as if they had been wolves. 
They seized their houses, their lands, their pleasant 
villages. The Indians were either slain or driven far 
away from the houses of their fathers, into the remote 
wilderness. 

The colony now increased rapidly, and the cabins 
of the emigrants spread farther and farther over the 
unoccupied lands. These hardy adventurers seemed 
providentially imbued with the spirit of enterprise. 
Instead of clustering together for the pleasure of 
society and for mutual protection, they were ever 
pushing into the wild and unknown interior, rearing 
their cabins on the banks of distant streams, and 
establishing their silent homes in the wildest solitudes 
of the wilderness. In 1660, quite a number of 
emigrants moved directly south from Virginia, to the 
river Chowan, in what is now South Carolina, where 
they established a settlement which they called 



28 DANIEL BOONE. 

Albermarle. In 1670, a colony from England estab« 
lished itself at Charleston, South Carolina. Thus 
gfradually the Atlantic coast became fringed with 
colonies, extending but a few leagues back into the 
country fronr the sea-shore, while the vast interior 
remained an unexplored wilderness. As the years 
rolled on, ship-loads of emigrants arrived, new settle- 
ments were established, colonial States rose into being, 
and, though there were many sanguinary conflicts 
with the Indians, the Europeans were always in the 
end triumphant, and intelligence, wealth, and laws of 
civilization were rapidly extended along the Atlantic 
border of the New World. 

For many years there had been a gradual pressure 
of the colonists towards the west, steadily encroaching 
upon the apparently limitless wilderness. To us it 
seems strange that they did not, for the sake of pro- 
tection against the Indians, invariably go in military 
bands. But generally this was not the case. The 
emigrants seem to have been inspired with a spirit of 
almost reckless indifference to danger ; they apparently 
ioved the solitude of the forest, avoided neighbors 
who might interfere with their hunting and trapping, 
and reared their humble cottages in the wildest ravines 
of the mountains and upon the smooth meadows 
which border the most solitary streams ; thus gradually 
the tide of emigration, flowing through Indian traili 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 29 

and along the forest-covered vines, was approaching 
the base of the Alleghany mountains. 

But little was known of the character of the bound- 
less realms beyond the ridges of this gigantic chain" 
Occasionally a wandering Indian who had chased 
his game over those remote wilds, would endeavor to 
draw upon the sand, with a stick, a map of the country 
showing the flow of the rivers, the line of the moun- 
tains, and the sweep of the open prairies. The Ohio 
was then called the Wabash. This magnificent and 
beautiful stream is formed by the confluence of the 
Alleghany and the Monongahela rivers. It was a 
long voyage, a voyage of several hundred miles, 
following the windings of the Monongahela river from 
its rise among the mountains of Western Virginia till, 
far away in the north, it met the flood of the Alleghany, 
at the present site of the city of Pittsburg. The 
voyage, in a birch canoe, required, in the figurative 
language of the Indians, " two paddles, two warriors 
and three moons." 

The Indians very correctly described the Ohio, or 
the Wabash, as but the tributary of a much more 
majestic stream, far away in the west, which, pouring 
it J flood through the impenetrable forest, emptied itself 
they knew not where. Of the magnitude of this 
distant river, the Mississippi, its source, rise and 
termination, they could give no intelligible account 



30 DANIEL BOONE. 

They endeavored to give some idea of the amount 
of game to be found in those remote realms, by point- 
ing to the leaves of the forest and the stars in the sky. 

The settlers were deeply interested and often much 
excited by the glowing descriptions thus given them 
of a terrestrial Eden, where life would seem to be but 
one uninterrupted holiday. Occasionally an adven- 
turous French or Spanish trader would cross the 
towering mountains and penetrate the vales beyond. 
They vied with the Indians in their account of the 
salubrity of the climate, the brilliance of the skies, 
the grandeur of the forests, the magnificence of the 
rivers, the marvelous fertility of the soil and the 
abundance of game. 

As early as the year 1690 a trader from Virginia, 
by the namd of Doherty, crossed the mountains, 
visited the friendly Cherokee nation, within the present 
bounds of Georgia, and resided with the natives 
several years. In the year 1730 an enterprising and 
intelligent man from South Carolina, by the name of 
Adair, took quite an extensive tour through most of 
the villages of the Cherokees, and also visited several 
tribes south and west of them. He wrote an exceed- 
ingly valuable and interesting account of his travels 
which was published in London. 

Influenced by these examples several traders, in the 
year 1740, went from Virginia to the couatry of the 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 31 

Cherokees. They carried on pack horses goods which 
the Indians valued, and which they exchanged for 
furs, which were sold in Europe at an enormous profit. 

A hatchet, a knife, a trap, a string of beads, which 
could be bought for a very small sum in the Atlantic 
towns, when exhibited beyond the mountains to 
admiring groups in the wigwam of the Indian, could 
be exchanged for furs which were of almost priceless 
value in the metropolitan cities of the Old World. 
This traffic was mutually advantageous, and so long 
as peaceful relations existed between the white man 
and the Indian, was prosecuted with great and ever in- 
creasing vigor. The Indians thus obtained the steel 
trap, the keenly cutting ax, and the rifle, which he 
soon learned to use with unerring aim. He was thus 
able in a day to obtainmoregamethan with his arrows 
and his clumsy snares he could secure in a month. 

This friendly intercourse was in all respects very 
desirable ; and but for the depravity of the white man 
it might have continued uninterrupted for generations. 
But profligate and vagabond adventurers from the 
settlements defrauded the Indians, insulted their 
women, and ofter committed wanton murder. But 
it would seem that the majority of the traders were 
honest men. Ramsay, in his Annals of Tennessee, 
writes, in reference to this traffic : 

" Other advantages resulted from it to the whites. 



32 lANIEL BOONE. 

They became thus acquainted with the great avenue* 
leading through the hunting ground, and to the 
occupied country of the neighboring tribes— an im- 
portant circumstance in the condition of either peace 
or war. Further the traders were an exact ther- 
mometer of the pacific or hostile intention and feeUngs 
of the Indians with whom they traded. Generally 
they were foreigners, most frequently Scotchmen, 
who had not been long in the country, or upon the 
frontier ; who, having experienced none of the cruelties, 
depredations or aggressions of the Indians, cherished 
none of the resentment and spirit of retaliation born 
with and everywhere manifested by the American 
settler. 

" Thus free from animosity against the aborigines, 
the trader was allowed to remain in the village, where 
he traded, unmolested, even where its warriors were 
singing the war song or brandishing the war 
club, preparatory to an invasion or massacre of the 
whites. Timely warning was thus often given by a 
returning packman to a feeble and unsuspecting 
settlement, of the perfidy and cruelty meditated 
against it." 

Game on the eastern side of the AUeghanies^ 
hunted down alike by white men and Indians, soon 
became scarce. Adventurers combining the characters 
of traders and hunters rapidly multiplied. Many of 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 33 

the hunters among the white men far outstripped the 
Indians in skill and energy. Thus some degree of 
jealousy was excited on the part of the savages. They 
saw how rapidly the game was disappearing, and 
these thoughtful men began to be anxious for the 
future. With no love for agriculture the destruction 
of the game was their ruin. 

As early as the year 1748 quite a party of gentle- 
men explorers, under the leadership of Doctor Thomas 
Walker of Virginia, crossed a range of the Alleghany 
mountains, which the Indians called Warioto, but to 
which Doctor Walker gave the name of Cumberland, 
in honor of the Duke of Cumberland who was then 
prime minister of England. Follov/ing along this 
chain in a south-westerly direction, in search of some 
pass or defile by which they could cross the cliffs, 
they came to the remarkable depression in the 
mountains to which they gave the name of Cumberland 
Gap. On the western side of the range they found a 
beautiful mountain stream, rushing far away, with 
ever increasing volume, into the unknown wilderness, 
which the Indians called Shawnee, but which Doctor 
Walker's party baptised with the name of Cumberland 
River. These names have adhered to the localities 
upon which they were thus placed. 

In 1756 a feeble attempt was made to establish a 
colony upon the Tennessee river, at a spot which was 



34 DANIEL BOONE. 

called London. This was one hundred and fifty 
miles in advance of any white settlement. Eight 
years passed, and by the ravages of war the little 
settlement went up in flame and smoke. As the 
years rapidly came and went there were occasional 
bursts of the tempests of war ; again there would be 
a short lull and blessed peace would come with its 
prosperity and joy. 

" In the year 1 760, Doctor Walker again passed 
over Clinch and Powell's rivers on a tour of exploration, 
into what is now Kentucky. The Cherokees were 
then at peace with the whites, and hunters from the 
back settlements began, with safety, to penetrate 
deeper and further into the wilderness of Tennessee. 
Several of them, chiefly from Virginia, hearing of the 
abundance of game with which the woods were stocked, 
and allured by the prospect of gain which might be 
drawn from this source, formed themselves into a 
company composed of Wallen, Seagys, Blevins, Cox 
and fifteen others, and came into the valley, since 
known as Carter's Valley, in Hawkin's county, Ten- 
nessee. They hunted eighteen months upon Clincn 
and Powell rivers. Wallen's Creek and Wallen's Ridge 
received their name from the leader of the company ; 
as also did Wallen's Station which they erected in the 
Lee county, Virginia. 

" They penetrated as far north as Laurel Mountain, 



THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF AMERICA. 35 

in Kentucky, where they terminated their journey, 
having met with a body of Indians whom they 
supposed to be Shawnees. At the head of one of the 
companies that visited the West, this year, came Daniel 
Boone from the Yadkin, in North CaroHna, and 
travelled with them as low as the place where 
Abingdon now stands, and there left them." 

This is the first time the advent of Daniel Boone to 
the western wilds has been mentioned by historians 
or by the several biographers of that distinguished 
pioneer and hunter. There is reason however to 
believe that he hunted upon Watauga some time 
earlier than this. 




CHAPTER II. 
Daniel Boone ^ his Parentage y and early Adventures, 



Trials of the Colonists. — George Boone and his home. — Squire Boone^ 
— Birth and character of Daniel Boone. — His limited education. 
—A pioneer's camp. — A log house and furnishings. — Annoyance 
of Boone on the arrival of Scotch emigrants. — His longings for 

adventure Camp meetings. — Frontier life. — Sports. — Squirrel 

hunting. — Snuffing the candle. 



It was but a narrow fringe upon the sea coast of 
North America, which was thus far occupied by the 
European emigrants. Even this edge of the continent 
was so vast in its extent, from the southern capes of 
Florida to the gulf of St. Lawrence, that these colonial 
settlements were far separated from each other. They 
constituted but little dots in the interminable forest : 
the surges of the Atlantic beating upon their eastern 
shores, and the majestic wilderness sweeping in its 
sublime solitude behind them on the west. Here the 
painted Indians pursued their game, while watching 
anxiously the encroachments of the pale faces. The 
cry of the panther, the growling of the bear, and the 
howling of the wolf, were music to the settlers 
compared with the war-hoop of the savage, which 
often startled the inmates of the lonely cabins, and 



DANIEL BOONE, HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 37 

consigned them to that sleep from which there is no 
earthly waking. The Indians were generally hostile, 
and being untutored savages, they were as merciless 
as demons in their revenge. The mind recoils from 
the contemplation of the tortures to which they often 
exposed their captives. And one cannot but wondei 
that the Almighty Father could have allowed such 
agony to be inflicted upon any of His creatures. 

Notwithstanding the general desire of the colonial 
authorities to treat the Indians with justice and 
kindness, there were unprincipled adventurers crowd- 
ing all the colonies, whose wickedness no laws could 
restrain. They robbed the Indians, insulted their 
families, and inflicted upon them outrages which 
goaded the poor savages to desperation. In their 
unintelligent vengeance they could make no distinc- 
tion between the innocent and the guilty. 

On the loth of October, 17 17, a vessel containing 
a number of emigrants arrived at Philadelphia, a 
small but flourishing settlement upon the banks of 
the Delaware. Among the passengers there was a 
man named George Boone, with his wife and eleven 
children, nine sons and two daughters. He had come 
from Exeter, England, and was lured to the New 
World by the cheapness of land. He had sufficient 
property to enable him to furnish all his sons with 

ample farms in America. The Delaware, above 

4 



^S DANIEL BOONE. 

Philadelphia, was at that time a silent stream, flowing 
sublimely through the almost unbroken forest. Here 
and there, a bold settler had felled the trees, and in 
the clearing had reared his log hut, upon the river 
banks Occasionally the birch canoe of an Indian 
hunter was seen passing rapidly from cove to cove, 
and occasionally a little cluster of Indian wigwams 
graced some picturesque and sunny exposure, for the 
Indians manifested much taste in the location of their 
villages. 

George Boone ascended this solitary river about 
twenty miles above Philadelphia, where he purchased 
upon its banks an extensive territory, consisting of 
several hundred acres. It was near the present city 
of Bristol, in what is now called Buck's County. To 
this tract, sufficiently large for a township, he gave 
the name of Exeter, in memory of the home he had 
left in England. Here, aided by the strong arms of 
his boys, he reared a commodious log cabin. It must 
have been an attractive and a happy home. The 
climate was delightful, the soil fertile, supplying him, 
with but little culture, with an ample supply of corn, 
and the most nutritious vegetables. Before his door 
rolled the broad expanse of the Delaware, abounding 
with fish of delicious flavor. His boys with hook and 
line could at any time, in a few moments, supply the 
table with a nice repast. With the unerring rifleii 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 39 

they could always procure game in great variety and 
abundance. 

The Indians, won by the humanity of William Penn« 
were friendly, and their occasional visits to the cabin 
contributed to the enjoyment of its inmates. On the 
whole a more favored lot in life could not well be 
imagined. There was unquestionably far more happi- 
ness in this log cabin of the settler, on the silent 
waters of the Delaware, than could be found in any of 
the castles or palaces of England, France, or Spain. 

George Boone had one son on whom he conferred 
the singular name of Squire. His son married a young 
woman in the neighborhood by the name of Sarah 
Morgan, and surrounded by his brothers and sisters, 
he raised his humble home in the beautiful township 
which his father had purchased. Before leaving En- 
gland the family, religiously inclined, had accepted 
the Episcopal form of Christian worship. But in the 
New World, far removed from the institutions of the 
Gospel, and allured by the noble character and influ- 
ence of William Penn, they enrolled themselves in the 
Society of Friends. In the record of the monthly 
meetings of this society, we find it stated that George 
Boone was received to its communion on the thirty- 
first day of tenth month, in the year 17 17. It is also 
recorded that his son Squire Boone was married to 
Sarah Morgan, on the twenty-third day of seventh 



40 DANIEL BOONE. 

month, 1720. The records of the meetings also shew 
the number of their children, and the periods of their 
birth. 

By this it appears that their son Daniel, the subject 
ef this memoir, was born on the twenty-second day of 
eighth month, 1734. It seems that Squire Boone be- 
came involved in difficulties with the Society of Friends, 
for allowing one of his sons to marry out of meeting. 
He was therefore disowned, and perhaps on this 
account, he subsequently removed his residence tc 
NorthCarolina, as we shall hereafter show. His son 
Daniel, from earliest childhood, developed a peculiar 
and remarkably interesting character. He was silent, 
thoughtful, of pensive temperament, yet far from 
gloomy, never elated, never depressed. He exhibited 
from his earliest years such an insensibility to danger, 
as to attract the attention of all who knew him. 
Though affectionate and genial in disposition, never 
morose or moody, he still loved solitude, and seemed 
never so happy as when entirely alone. His father 
remained in his home upon the Delaware until Daniel 
was about ten years of age. 

Various stories are related of his adventures in 
these his early years, which may or may not be en- 
tirely authentic. It makes but little difference. These 
anecdotes if only founded on facts, show at least the 
estimation in which he was regarded, and the impres- 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 4' 

•ion which his character produced in these days of 
childhood. Before he was ten years old he would 
take his rifle and plunge boldly into the depths of 
the illimitable forest. He seemed, by instinct, pos- 
sessed of the skill of the most experienced hunter, so 
that he never became bewildered, or in danger of 
being lost. There were panthers, bears and wolves 
in those forests, but of them he seemed not to have 
the slightest fear. His skill as a marksman became 
quite unerring. Not only racoons, squirrels, partridges 
and other such small game were the result of his 
hunting expeditiofVs, but occasionally even the fierce 
panther fell before his rifle ball. From such frequent 
expeditions he would return silent and tranquil, with 
never a word of boasting in view of exploits of which 
a veteran hunter might be proud. 

Indeed his love of solitude was so great, that he 
reared for himself a little cabin in the wilderness, 
three miles back from the settlement. Here he would 
go all alone without even a dog for companion, his 
trusty rifle his only protection. At his camp fire, on 
the point of his ramrod, he would cook the game 
which he obtained in abundance, and upon his bed 
of leaves would sleep in sweetest enjoyment, lulled 
by the wind through the tree-tops, and by the cry 
of the night bird and of the wild beasts roaming 
around. 



42 DANIEL BOONE. 

The education of young Boone was necessarily very 
defective. There were no schools then established in 
those remote districts of kg cabins. But it so happened 
that an Irishman of some little education strolled 
into that neighborhood, and Squire Boone engaged 
him to teach, for a few months, his children and 
those of some others of the adjacent settlers. These 
hardy emigrants met with their axes in a central 
point in the wilderness, and in a few hours constructed 
a rude hut of logs for a school-house. Here young 
Boone was taught to read, and perhaps to write. 
This was about all the education he ever received. 
Probably the confinement of the school-room was 
to him unendurable. The forest was his congenial 
home, hunting the business of his life. 

Though thus uninstructed in the learning of books, 
there were other parts of practical education, of 
infinitely more importance to him, in which he became 
an adept. His native strength of mind, keen habits 
of observation, and imperturbable tranquility under 
whatever perils or reverses, gave him skill in the life 
upon which he was to enter, which the teachings of 
books alone could not confer. No marksman could 
surpass him in the dexterity with which with his bullet 
he would strike the head of a nail, at the distance of 
many yards. No Indian hunter or warrior could 
with more sagacity trace his steps through the path- 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 43 

less forest, detect the footsteps of a retreating foe, of 
search out the hiding place of the panther or the bear. 
In these hunting excursions the youthful frame of 
Daniel became inured to privation, hardship, endu- 
rance. Taught to rely upon his own resources, he knew 
not what it was to be lonely, for an hour. In the darkest 
night and in the remotest wilderness, when the storm 
raged most fiercely, although but a child he felt 
peaceful, happy, and entirely at home. 

About the year 1748 (the date is somewhat uncer- 
tain), Squire Boone, with his family, emigrated seven 
hundred miles farther south and west to a place called 
Holman's Ford on the Yadkin river, in North Carolina. 
The Yadkin is a small stream in the north-west part 
of the State. A hundred years ago this was indeed a 
howling wilderness. It is difficult to imagine what 
could have induced the father of a family to abandon 
the comparatively safe and prosperous settlements on 
the banks of the Delaware, to plunge into the wilder- 
ness of these pathless solitudes, several hundred miles 
from the Atlantic coast. Daniel was then about 
sixteen years of age. 

Of the incidents of their long journey through the 
wood — on foot, with possibly a few pack horses, for 
there were no wagon-roads whatever — we have no 
record. The journey must probably have occupied 
several weeks, occasionally cheered by sunshine, and 



44 DANIEL BOONE. 

again drenched by storms. There were nine children 
in the family. At the close of the weary pilgrimage 
of a day, through such narrow trails as that which the 
Indian or the buffalo had made through the forest, or 
over the prairies, they were compelled to build a cabin 
at night, with logs and the bark of trees to shelter 
them from the wind and rain, and at the camp-fire to 
cook the game which they had shot during the day. 
We can imagine that this journey must have been a 
season of unspeakable delight to Daniel Boone. 
Alike at home with the rifle and the hatchet, never 
for a moment bewildered, or losing his self-possession, 
he could, even unaided, at any hour, rear a sheltering 
hut for his mother and his sisters, before which the 
camp-fire would blaze cheerily, and their hunger 
would be appeased by the choicest viands from the 
game which his rifle had procured. 

The spirit of adventure is so strong in most human 
hearts which luxurious indulgence has not enervated, 
that it is not improbable that this family enjoyed far 
more in this romantic excursion through an unex- 
plored wilderness, than those now enjoy who in a few 
hours traverse the same distance in the smooth rolling 
rail-cars. Indeed fancy can paint many scenes of 
picturesque beauty which we know that the reality 
must have surpassed. 

It is the close of a lovely day. A gentle breeze 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 45 

sweeps through the tree tops from the north-west 
The trail through the day has led along the banks of 
a crystal mountain stream, sparkling with trout. The 
path is smooth for the moccasined feet. The limbs, 
inured to action, experienced no weariness. The axes 
of the father and the sons speedily construct a camp, 
open to the south and perfectly sheltered on the roof 
and on the sides by the bark of trees. The busy 
fingers of the daughters have in the meantime spread 
over the floor a soft and fragrant carpet of evergreen 
twigs. The mother is preparing supper, of trout 
from the stream, and the fattest of wild turkeys or 
partridges, or tender cuts of venison, which the rifles 
of her husband or sons have procured. Voracious 
appetites render the repast far more palatable than 
the choicest viands which were ever spread in the 
banqueting halls of Versailles or Windsor. Water- 
fowl of gorgeous plumage sport in the stream, 
unintimidated by the approach of man. The plaintive 
songs of forest-birds float in the evening air. On the 
opposite side of the stream, herds of deer and buffalo 
crop the rich herbage of the prairie, which extends 
far away, till it is lost in the horizon of the south. 
Daniel retires from the converse of the cabin to an 
adjoining eminence, where silently and rapturously 
he gazes upon the scene of loveliness spread out 
before him. 



46 DANIEL BOONE. 

Such incidents must often have occurred. Even 
in the dark and tempestuous night, with the storm 
surging through the tree tops, and the rain descending 
in floods, in their sheltered camp, illumined by the 
flames of their night fire, souls capable of appreciating 
the sublimity of such scenes must have experienced 
exquisite delight. It is pleasant to reflect, that the 
poor man in his humble cabin may often be the 
recipient of much more happiness than the lord finds 
in his castle, or the king in his palace. 

No details are given respecting the arrival of this 
family on the banks of the Yadkin, or of their habits 
of life while there. We simply know that they were 
far away in the untrodden wilderness, in the remotest 
frontiers of civilization. Bands of Indians were roving 
around them, but even if hostile, so long as they had 
only bows and arrows, the settler in his log-hut, which 
was a fortress, and with his death-dealing rifle, was 
comparatively safe. 

Here the family dwelt for several years, probably 
in the enjoyment of abundance, and with ever- 
increasing comforts. The virgin soil, even poorly 
tilled, furnished them with the corn and the vegetables 
tliey required, while the forests supplied the table 
with game. Thus the family, occupying the double 
position of the farmer and the hunter, lived in the 
enjoyment of all th^ luxuries which both of those 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 47 

callings could afford. Here Daniel Boons grew up to 
manhood. His love of solitude and of nature led 
him on long hunting excursions, from which he often 
returned laden with furs. The silence of the wilder- 
ness he brought back with him to his home. And 
though his placid features ever bore a smile, he had 
but few words to interchange with neighbors or friends. 
He was a man of affectionate, but not of passionate 
nature. It woulJ seem that other emigrants wxre 
lured to the banks of the Yadkin, for here, after a few 
years, young Boone fell in love v/ith the daughter of 
his father's neighbor, and that daughter, Rebecca 
Bryan, became his bride. He thus left his father's 
home, and, with his axe, speedily erected for himself 
and wife a cabin, we may presume at some distance 
from sight or sound of any other house. There " from 
noise and tumult far," Daniel Boone established 
himself in the life of solitude, to which he was 
accustomed and which he enjoyed. It appears that 
his marriage took place about the year 1755. The 
tide of emigration was still flowing in an uninterrupted 
stream towards the west. The population w^as in- 
creasing throughout this remote region, and the axe oi 
the settler began to be heard on the streams tributary 
to the Yadkin. 

Daniel Boone became restless. He loved the 
wilderness and its solitude, and was annoyed by the 



48 DANIEL BOONE. 

approach of human habitations, bringing to him 
customs with which he was unacquainted, and expos- 
ing him to embarrassments from which he would 
gladly escape. The mode of life practiced by those 
eariy settlers in the wilderness is well known. The 
log-house usually consisted of but one room, with a 
fire-place of stones at the end. These houses were 
often very warm and comfortable, presenting in the 
interior, with a bright fire blazing on the hearth, a 
very cheerful aspect. Their construction was usually 
as follows : Straight, smooth logs about a foot in 
diameter, cut of the proper length, and so notched 
at the ends as to be held very firmly together, were 
thus placed one above the other to the height of about 
ten feet. The interstices were filled with clay, which 
soon hardened, rendering the walls comparatively 
smooth, and alike impervious to wind or rain. Other 
logs of straight fiber were split into clap-boards, one 
or two inches in thickness, with which they covered 
the roof If suitable wood for this purpose could not 
be found, the bark of trees was used, with an occasional 
thatching of the long grass of the prairies. Logs 
about eighteen inches in diameter were selected for 
the floor. These were easily split in halves, and with 
the smooth surface uppermost joined closely together 
by a slight trimming with axe or adze, piesented a 
very firm and even attractive surface for the teet. 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 49 

In the centre of the room, four augur holes were 
bored in the logs, about three inches in diameter. 
Stakes were driven firmly into these holes, upon 
which were placed two pieces of timber, with the upper 
surfaces hewn smooth, thus constructing a table. In 
one corner of the cabin, four stakes were driven in & 
similar way, about eighteen inches high, with forked 
tops. Upon these two saplings were laid with smooth 
pieces of bark stretched across. These were covered 
with grass or dried leaves, upon which was placed, 
with the fur upwards, the well-tanned skin of the 
buffalo or the bear. Thus quite a luxurious bed was 
constructed, upon which there was often enjoyed as 
sweet sleep as perhaps is ever found on beds of down. 
In another corner, some rude shelves were placed, 
upon which appeared a few articles of tin and iron- 
ware. Upon som.e buck horns over the door was 
always placed the rifle, ever loaded and ready for use. 

A very intelligent emigrant, Dr. Doddridge, gives 
the following graphic account of his experience in such 
a log-cabin as we have described, in the remote 
wilderness. When he was but a child, his father, with 
a small family, had penetrated these trackless wilds, 
and in the midst of their sublime solitudes had reared 
bis lonely cabin. He writes : 

" My father's family was small and he took us all 
with him. The Indian meal which he brought was 

A 



50 DANIEL BOONE. 

expended six weeks too soon, so that for that length 
of time we had to live without bread. The lean 
venison and the breast of wild turkeys, we were taught 
to call bread. I remember how narrowly we children 
watched the growth of the potato tops, pumpkin, and 
squash vines, hoping from day to day to get something 
to answer in the place of bread. How delicious was the 
taste of the young potatoes, when we got them I 
What a jubilee when we were permitted to pull the 
young corn for roasting ears ! Still more so when 
it had acquired sufficient hardness to be made into 
johnny cake by the aid of a tin grater. The furniture 
of the table consisted of a few pewter dishes, plates 
and spoons, but mostly of wooden bowls and trenches 
and noggins. If these last were scarce, gourds and 
hard shell squashes made up the deficiency. 

" I well remember the first time I ever saw a tea 
cup and saucer. My mother died when I was six oi 
seven years of age. My father then sent me to 
Maryland to go to school. At Bedford, the tavern 
at which my uncle put up was a stone house, and to 
make the changes still more complete, it was plastered 
on the inside both as to the walls and ceiling. On 
going into the dining-room, I was struxk with 
a^onishment at the appearance of the house. I had 
no idea that there was any house in the world that 
was not built of logs. But here I looked around and 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 5I 

could see no logs, and above I couid see no joists. 
Whether such a thing had been made by the hands of 
man, or had grown so of itself, I could not conjecture. 
I had not the courage to inquire anything about it. 
When supper came on, my confusion was worse 
confounded : A little cup stood in a bigger one with 
some brownish-looking stuff in it, which was neither 
milk, hominy, nor broth. What to do with these 
little cups, and the spoons belonging to them, I could 
not tell. But I was afraid to ask anything concerning 
the use of them." 

Daniel Boone could see from the door of his cabin, 
far away in the west, the majestic ridge of the 
Alleghany mountains, many of the peaks rising six 
thousand feet into the clouds. This almost impassable 
wall, which nature had reared, extended for hundreds 
of leagues, along the Atlantic coast, parallel with that 
coast, and at an average distance of one hundred and 
thirty miles from the ocean. It divides the waters 
which flow into the Atlantic, from those which run 
into the Mississippi, The great chain consists of many 
spurs, from fifty to two hundred miles in breadth, and 
receives in different localities, different names, such as 
the Cumberland mountains, the Blue Ridge, etc. 

But few white men had ever as yet ascended these 
summits, to cast a glance at the vast wilderness 
beyond. The wildest stories were told around the 



52 DANIEL BOONE. 

cabin fires, of these unexplored realms, — of the IndiaH 
tribes wandering there ; of the forests filled with 
game ; of the rivers alive with fishes ; of the fertile 
plains, the floral beauty, the abounding fruit, and 
the almost celestial clime. These stories were brought 
to the settlers in the broken language of the Indians, 
and in the exaggerated tales of hunters, who professed 
that in the chase they had, from some Pisgah's sumTiit^ 
gazed upon the splendors of this Canaan of the New 
W^rid 

Thus far, the settlers had rested contented with 
the sea-bord region east of the Alleghanies. They 
had made no attempt to climb the summits of this 
great barrier, or to penetrate its gloomy defiles. A 
dense forest covered alike the mountain clifi' and the 
rocky gorge. Indeed there were but few points at 
which even the foot of the hunter could pass this 
chain. 

While Daniel Boone was residing in the congenial 
solitude of his hut, on the banks of the Yadkin ; with 
the grandeur of the wilderness around him in which 
his soul delighted ; with his table luxuriously spread 
according to his tastes — with venison, bear's meat, fat 
turkeys, chickens from the prairie, and vegetables 
from his garden ; with comfortable clothing of deer- 
skin, and such cloths as pedlars occasionally brought 
to his cabin door in exchange for furs, he was quite 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 53 

annoyed by the arrival of a number of Scotch 
families in his region, bringing with them custom.^ 
and fashions which to Daniel Boone were very 
annoying. They began to cut down the glorious old 
forest, to break up the green sward of the prairies, to 
rear niore ambitious houses than the humble home of 
the pioneer ; they assumed airs of superiority, intro- 
duced more artificial styles of living, and brought in 
the hitherto unknown vexation of taxes. 

One can easily imagine how restive such a man as 
Boone must have been under such innovations. The 
sheriff made his appearance in the lonely hut ; the 
collection of the taxes was enforced by suits at law. 
Even Daniel Boone's title to his lands was called in 
question ; some of the new comers claiming that their 
more legal grants lapped over upon the boundaries 
which Boone claimed. Under these circumstances 
our pioneer became very anxious to escape from these 
vexations by an emigration farther into the wilder* 
ness. Day after day he cast wistful glances upon tht 
vast mountain barrier piercing the clouds in the dis« 
tant horizon. Beyond that barrier, neither the sherifl' 
nor the tax-gatherer were to be encountered. His 
soul, naturally incapable of fear, experienced no dread 
in apprehension of Indian hostilities, or the ferocity 
of wild beasts. Even the idea of the journey through 
these sublime solitudes of an unexplored region, was 



54 DANIEL BOONE. 

far more attractive to him than the tour of Europe to 
a sated millionaire. 

Two or three horses would convey upon their backs 
all their household goods. There were Indian trails 
and streets, so called, made by the buffaloes, as in 
large numbers they had followed each other, selecting 
by a wonderful instinct their path from one feeding 
ground to another, through cane-brakes, around 
morasses, and over mountains through the most ac- 
cessible defiles. Along these trails or streets, Boone 
could take his peaceful route without any danger of 
mistaking his way. Every mile would be opening to 
him new scenes of grandeur and beauty. Should 
night come, or a storm set in, a few hours' labor with 
his axe would rear for him not only a comfortable, 
but a cheerful tent with its warm and sheltered in- 
terior, with the camp-fire crackling and blazing before 
it. His wife and his children not only afforded him 
all the society his peculiar nature craved, but each 
one was a helper, knowing exactly what to do in this 
picnic excursion through the wilderness. Wherever 
he might stop for the night or for a few days, his un- 
erring rifle procured for him viands which might 
tempt the appetite of the epicure. There are many 
even in civilized life who will confess, that for them, 
such an excursion would present attractions such as 
are not to be found in the banqueting halls at 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 55 

Windsor Castle, or in the gorgeous saloons of Ver- 
sailles. 

Daniel Boone, in imagination, was incessantly visit- 
ing the land beyond the mountains, and longing to 
explore its mysteries. Whether he would find the 
ocean there or an expanse of lakes and majestic rivers, 
or boundless prairies, or the unbroken forest, he knew 
not. Whether the region were crowded with Indians, 
and if so, whether they would be found friendly or 
hostile, and whether game roamed there in greater 
variety and in larger abundance than on the Atlantic 
side of the great barrier, were questions as yet all un- 
solved. But these questions Daniel Boone pondered 
in silence, night and day. 

A gentleman who nearly half a century ago visited 
one of these frontier dwellings, very romantically 
situated amidst the mountains of Western Virginia, 
has given us a pencil sketch of the habitation which 
we here introduce. The account of the visit is also 
so graphic that we cannot improve it by giving it in 
any language but his own. This settler had passed 
through the first and was entering upon the second 
stage of pioneer life ; 

"Towards the close of an autumnal day, when t:av- 
eling through the thinly settled region of Western 
Virginia, I came up with a substantial-looking farmer 
leaning on the fence by the road side. I accom- 



56 DANIEL BOONE. 

panied him to his house to spend the night. It was 
a log dwelling, and near it stood another log struc- 
ture, about twelve feet square, — the weaving shop of 
the family. On entering the dwelling I found the 
numerous household all clothed in substantial gar- 
ments of their own m.anufacture. The floor was 
unadorned by a carpet and the room devoid of super- 
fluous furniture ; yet they had all that necessity 
required for their comfort. One needs but little ex- 
perience like this to learn how few are our real wants, 
- — how easily most luxuries of dress, furniture and 
equipage can be dispensed with. 

" Soon after my arrival supper was ready. It 
consisted of fowls, bacon, hoe-cake and buckwheat 
cakes. Our beverage was milk and coffee, sweetened 
with maple sugar. Soon as it grew dark my hostess 
took down a small candle mould for three candles, 
hanging from the wall on a frame-work just in front 
of the fire-place, in company with a rifle, long strings 
of dried pumpkins and other articles of household 
property. On retiring I was conducted to the room 
overhead, to which I ascended by stairs out of doors. 
My bed-fellow was the county sheriff, a young man of 
about my own age. And as we lay together a fine 
field was had for astronomical observations through 
the chmks of the logs. 

** The next morning, after rising, I was looking foi 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 57 

the washing apparatus, when he tapped me on the 
shoulder, as a signal to accompany him to the brook 
in the rear of the house, in whose pure crystal waters 
we performed our morning ablutions. After break- 
fast, through the persuasion of the sheriff, I agreed to 
go across the country by his house. He was on 
horseback ; I on foot bearing my knapsack. For six 
miles our route lay through a pathless forest ; on 
emerging from which we soon passed through the 
'Court House,* the only village in the county, con- 
sisting of about a dozen log-houses and the court 
building. 

" Soon after we came to a Methodist encampment. 
This was formed of three continuous lines, each oc- 
cupying a side of a square and about one hundred 
feet in length. Each row was divided into six or ten 
cabins with partitions between. The height of the 
rows on the inner side of the enclosed area was about 
ten feet, on the outer about six, to which the roofs 
sloped shed-like. The door of each cabin opened on 
the inner side of the area, and at the back of each 
was a log chimney coming up even with the roof. 
At the upper extremity of the inclosure, formed by 
these three lines of cabins, was an open shed ; a mere 
roof supported by posts, say thirty by fifty feet, in 
which was a coarse pulpit and log seats. A few tall 
trees we^e standing within the area, and many stumps 



58 DANIEL BOONE 

scattered here and there. The whole establiihrnent 
was in the depth of a forest, and wild and rude as can 
well be imagined. 

"In many of these sparsely inhabited counties 
there are no settled clergy, and rarely do the people 
hear any other than the Methodist preachers. Here 
is the itinerating system of Wesley exhibited in its 
full usefulness. The circuits are usually of three 
weeks' duration, in which the clergymen preach daily. 
Most of these preachers are energetic, devoted men, 
and often they endure great privations. 

" After sketching the encampment I came in a few 
moments to the dwelling of the sheriff. Close by it 
was a group of mountain men and women seated 
around a log cabin, about twelve feet square, ten high, 
and open at the top, into which these neighbors of 
my companion were castmg ears of corn as fast as 
they could shuck them. Cheerfully they performed 
their task. The men were large and hardy ; the 
damsels plump and rosy, and all dressed in good 
warm homespun. The sheriff informed me that he 
owned about two thousand acres around his dwelling, 
and that his farm was worth about one thousand 
dollars or fifty cents an acre. 

" I entered his log domicile which was one story in 
height, about twenty feet square and divided into two 
small rooms without windows or places to let in thf 



HT'/ //ARLY ADVENTURES. 59 

light except by a front and rear door. I soon par- 
took of a meal ia which we had a variety of luxuries 
not omitting bear's meat. A blessing was asked at 
the table by one of the neighbors. After supper the 
bottle, as usual at corn huskings, was circulated. 
The sheriff learning that I was a Washingtonian, 
with the politeness of one of nature's gentlemen 
refrained from urging me to participate. The men 
drank but moderately; and we all drew around the 
fire, the light of which was the only one we had. 
Hunting stories and kindred topxs served to talk 
down the houis till bed time. 

** On awaking in the morning, I saw two women 
cooking breakfast in my bedroom, and three men 
seated over the fire watching the operation. After 
breakfast, I bade my host farewell, buckled on my 
knapsack and left. In the course of two hours, I 
came to a cabin by the wayside. There bemg no 
gate, I sprang over the fence, entered the open door, 
and was received with a hearty welcome. It was an- 
humble dwelling, the abode of poverty. The few 
articles of furniture were neat and pleasantly arranged^ 
In the corner stood two beds, one hung with curtains^ 
and both with coverlets of snowy white, contrasting 
with the dingy log walls, rude furniture, and rough 
boarded floor of this, the only room in the dwelling. 
Around a cheerful fire was seated an interesting 



(k) DANIEL BOONE. 

family group. In one corner, on the hearth, sat the 
mother, smoking a pipe. Next to her was a little girl, 
in a small chair, holding a young kitten. In the 
opposite corner sat a venerable old man, of Herculean 
stature, robed in a hunting shirt, and with a coun- 
tenance as majestic and impressive as that of a Roman 
senator. In the centre of the group was a young 
maiden, modest and retiring, not beautiful, except in 
that moral beauty virtue gives. She was reading to 
them from a little book. She was the only one of the 
family who could read, and she could do so but 
imperfectly. In that small volume was the whole 
secret of the neatness and happiness found in this 
lonely cot. That little book was the New Testament." 

The institution of camp-meetings, introduced with 
so much success by the Methodists, those noble 
pioneers of Christianity, seem to have been the 
necessary result of the attempt to preach to the 
sparsely settled population of a new country. The 
following is said to be the origin of those camp- 
meetings which have done incalculable good, socially, 
intellectually, and religiously. 

In the year 1799, two men by the name of McGee, 
one a Presbyterian, the other a Methodist, set out on 
a missionary tour together, to visit the log-houses in 
the wilderness. A meeting was appointed at a little 
settlement upon one of the tributaries of the Ohia 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 6l 

The pioneers flocked to the place from man)'- miles 
around. There was no church there, and the meeting 
was necessarily held in the open air. Many brought 
their food with them and camped out. Thus the 
meeting, with exhortation and prayer, was continued in 
the night. Immense bonfires blazed, illummating the 
sublimities of the forest, and the assembled con- 
gregation, cut off from all the ordinary privileges of 
civilized life, listened devoutly to the story of a Savior's 
love. 

This meeting was so successful in its results that 
another was appointed at a small settlement on the 
banks of a stream called Muddy river. The tidings 
spread rapidly through all the stations and farm housey 
on the frontier. It afforded these lonely settlers % 
delightful opportunity of meeting together. They 
could listen for hours with unabated interest to the 
religious exercises. The people assembled from a 
distance of forty or fifty miles around. A vast con- 
course had met beneath the foliage of the trees, the 
skies alone, draped with clouds by day and adorned 
with stars by night, the dome of their majestic temple. 

The scene, by night, must have been picturesque in 
the extreme. Men, women and children were there in 
homespun garb ; and being accustomed to camp life, 
they were there in comfort. Strangers met and 
became friends. Many wives and mothers obtained 



62 DANIEL BOONE. 

rest and refreshment from their monotonous toils. 
There is a bond in Christ's discipleship, stronger than 
any other, and Christians grasped hands in love, 
pledging themselves anew to a holy life. For several 
days and nights, this religious festival was continued. 
Time could not have been better spent. Dwellers in 
the forest could not afford to take so long a journey 
merely to listen to one half-hour's discourse. These 
men and women were earnest and thoughtful. In 
the solitude of their homes, they had reflected deeply 
upon life and its issues. When death occasionally 
visited their cabins, it was a far more awful event than 
when death occurs in the crowded city, where the 
hearse is every hour of every day passing through the 
streets. 

These scenes of worship very deeply impressed the 
minds of the people. They were not Gospel hardened. 
The gloom and silence of the forest, alike still by 
night and by day ; the memory of the past, with its few 
joys and many griefs ; the anticipations of the future, 
with its unceasing struggles, to terminate only in 
death ; the solemnity which rested on every coun- 
tenance ; the sweet melody of the hymns ; the earnest 
tones of the preachers in exhortation and prayer, all 
combined to present a scene calculated to produce 
a very profound impression upon the human mind. 
At this meeting, not only professed Christians were 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 63 

greatly revived, but not less than a hundred persons, 
it was thought, became disciples of the Savior. 

Another camp-meeting was soon after appointed to 
meet on Desha's Creek, a small stream flowing into 
the Cumberland river. The country was now be- 
coming more populous, and several thousand were 
assembled. And thus the work went on, multitudes 
being thus reached by the preached Gospel who could 
iiot be reached in any other way.* 

Life on the frontier was by no means devoid of its 
enjoyments as well as of its intense excitements. It 
must have been also an exceedingly busy life. There 
were no mills for cutting timber or grinding corn ; no 
blacksmith shops to repair the farming utensils. 
There were no tanneries, no carpenters, shoemakers, 
weavers. Every family had to do everything for 
itself. The corn was pounded with a heavy pestle in 
a large mortar made by burning an excavation in a 
solid block of wood. By means of these mortars the 
settlers, in regions where saltpetre could be obtained, 
made very respectable gunpowder. In making corn- 
meal a grater was sometimes used, consisting of a 
half-circular piece of tin, perforated with a punch 
from the concave side. The ears of corn were rubbed 
on the rough edges, and the meal fell through the 

• Bang's History of Mettodism 



64 DANIEL BOONE. 

holes on a board or cloth placed to receive it. They 
also sometimes made use of a handmill, resembling 
those alluded to in the Bible. These consisted of 
two circular stones ; the lowest, which was immov- 
able, was called the bed-stone, — the upper one, the 
runnel. Two persons could grind together at this 
mill. 

The clothing was all of domestic manufacture. A 
fabric called linsey-woolsey was most frequently in 
use and made the most substantial and warmest 
clothing. It was made of flax and wool, the former 
the warp, the latter the filling. Every cabin almost 
had its rude loom, and every woman was a weaver. 

The men tanned their own leather. A large trough 
was sunk in the ground to its upper edge. Bark wa> 
shaved with an axe and pounded with a mallet, 
Ashes were used for lime in removing the hair. In 
the winter evenings the men made strong shoes and 
moccasins, and the women cut out and made hunting 
shirts, leggins and drawers. 

Hunting was a great source of amusement as well 
as a very exciting and profitable employment. The 
boys were all taught to imitate the call of every bird 
and beast in the woods. The skill in imitation 
which they thus acquired was wonderful. Hidden in 
a thicket they would gobble like a turkey and lure a 
whole flock of these birds within reach of their rifles, 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 6$ 

Bleating like the fawn they would draw the timid 
dam to her death. The moping owls would come in 
flocks attracted by the screech of the hunter, while 
packs of wolves, far away in the forest, would howl in 
response to the hunter's cry. The boys also rivalled 
the Indians in the skill with which they would throw 
the tomahawk. With a handle of a given length, 
and measuring the distance with the eye, they would 
throw the weapon with such accuracy that its keen 
edge would be sure to strike the object at which it 
was aimed. Running, jumping, wrestling were pas- 
times in which both boys and men engaged. Shoot- 
ing at a mark was one of the most favorite diversions. 
When a boy had attained the age of about twelve 
j^ears, a rifle was usually placed in his hands. In the 
house or fort where he resided, a port-hole was as- 
signed him, where he was to do valiant service as 
a soldier, in case of an attack by the Indians. Every 
day he was in the woods hunting squirrels, turkeys 
and raccoons. Thus he soon acquired extraordinary 
expertness with his gun. 

The following interesting narrative is taken from 
Ramsay's Annals of Tennessee, which State was 
settled about the same time with Kentucky and with 
emigrants from about the same region : 

** The settlement of Tennessee was unlike that of 
the present new country of the United States. Emi- 



66 DANIEL BOONE. 

grants from the Atlantic cities, and from most points 
in the Western interior, now embark upon steamboats 
or other craft, and carrying with them all the con- 
veniences and comforts of civilized life — indeed many 
of its luxuries — are, in a few days, without toii^ 
danger or exposure, transported to their new abodes, 
and in a few months are surrounded with the ap- 
pendages of home, of civilization and the blessings of 
law and of society. 

" The wilds of Minnesota and Nebraska, by the 
agency of steam or the stalwart arms of Western 
boatmen, are at once transformed into the settle- 
ments of a commercial and civilized people. Inde- 
pendence and Saint Paul, six months after they are 
laid off, have their stores and their workshops, their 
artisans and their mechanics. The mantua-maker 
and the tailor arrive in the same boat with the car- 
penter and mason. The professional man and the 
printer quickly follow. In the succeeding year the 
piano, the drawing-room, the restaurant, the billiard 
table, the church bell, the village and the city in 
miniature are all found, while the neighboring inte- 
rior is yet a wilderness and a desert. 

"The town and comfort, taste and urbanity aie 
first ; the clearing, the farm house, the wagon road 
and the improved country, second. It was far dif- 
ferent on the frontier of Tennessee. At first a single 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES 67 

Indian trail was the only entrance to the Eastern 
border of it, and for many years admitted only the 
hunter and the pack-horse. It was not till the year 
1776 that a wagon was seen in Tennessee. In conse- 
quence of the want of roads — as well as of the great 
distance from the sources of supply — the first inhabi- 
tants were without tools, and of course without 
mechanics — much more without the conveniences of 
living and the comforts of housekeeping. 

"Luxuries were absolutely unknown. Salt was 
brought on pack-horses from Augusta and Richmond 
and readily commanded ten dollars a bushel. The 
salt gourd in every cabin was considered as a treasure 
The sugar maple furnished the only article of luxury 
on the frontier ; coftee and tea being unknown or 
beyond the reach of the settlers. Sugar was seldom 
made and was used only for the sick, or in the pre- 
paration of a sweetened dram at a wedding, or on 
the arrival of a new comer. 

" The appendages of the kitchen, the cupboard and 
the table, were scanty and simple. Iron was brought 
at great expense from the forges east of the moun- 
tains, on pack-horses, and was sold at an enormous 
price. Its use was, for this reason, confined to the 
construction and repair of ploughs and other farming 
utensils. Hinges, nails and fastenings of that material 
were seldom seen. The costume of the first settlera 



68 DANIEL BOONE. 

corresponded well with the style of their buildinj^s 
and the quality of their furniture : the hunting shirt 
of the militia man and the hunter was in general use. 
The rest of their apparel was in keeping with it, — 
plain, substantial and well adapted for comfort, use 
and economy. The apparel of the pioneer's family 
was all home-made ; and in a whole neighborhood 
there would not be seen, at the first settlement of the 
country, a single article of dress of foreign manuiac- 
ture. Half the year, in many families, shoes were 
not worn. Boots, a fur hat and a coat, with buttons 
on each side, attracted the gaze of the beholder and 
sometimes received censure or rebuke. A stranger 
from the old States chose to doff his ruffles, his broad- 
cloth and his cue rather than endure the scoft' and 
ridicule of the backwoodsman. 

" The dwelling house on every frontier in Tennessee 
was the log-cabin. A carpenter and a mason were 
not needed to build them — much less the painter, the 
glazier and the upholsterer. Every settler had, besides 
his rifle, no other instrument but an axe or hatchet 
and a butcher-knife. A saw, an auger, a file and a 
broad-axe would supply a whole settlement, and were 
used as common property in the erection of the log- 
cabin. 

" The labor and employment oi a pioneer family 
Were distributed in accordance with surrounding cir- 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 69 

cumstances. To the men was assigned the duty of pro- 
curing subsistence and materials for clothing, erecting 
the cabin and the station, opening and cultivating the 
farm, hunting the wild beasts, and repelling and 
pursueing the Indians. The women spun the flax, 
the cotton and the wool, wove the cloth, made them 
up, milked, churned and prepared the food, and did 
their full share of the duties of housekeeping. 

*' Could there be happiness or comfort in such 
dwellings and such a state of society } To those v/ho 
are accustomed to modern refinements the truth 
appears like fable. The early occupants of log-cabins 
were among the most happy of mankind. Exercise 
and excitement gave them health. They were prac- 
tically equal, common danger made them mutually 
dependent. Brilliant hopes of future wealth and dis- 
tinction led them on. And as there was ample room 
for all, and as each new comer increased individual 
and general security, there was little room for that 
envy, jealousy and hatred which constitute a large 
portion of human misery in older societies. 

" Never were the story, the joke, the song and the 
laugh better enjoyed than upon the hewed blocks of 
puncheon stools, around the roaring log fire of the early 
western settler. 

" On the frontier the diet was necessarily plain and 
homely, but exceedingly abundant and nutritive 



70 DANIEL BOONE. 

The Goshen of America furnishes the richest milk and 
the most savory and delicious meats. In their rude 
cabins, with their scanty and inartificial furniture, no 
people ever enjoyed, in wholesome food a greater 
variety, or a superior quality of the necessaries of 
life." 

A writer of that day describes the sports of these 
pioneers of Kentucky. One of them consisted in 
" driv'ng the nail." A common nail was hammereJ 
into a target for about two thirds of its length. The 
marksmen then took their stand at the distance of 
about forty paces. Each man carefully cleaned the 
interior of his gun, and then placed a bullet in his 
hand, over which he poured just enough powder to 
cover it. This was a charge. A shot which only 
came close to the nail was considered a very indifferent 
shot. Nothing was deemed satisfactory but striking 
the nail with the bullet fairly on the head. Generally 
one out of three shots would hit the nail. Two nails 
were frequently needed before each man could get a 
shot 

Barking of Squin^els is another sport. " I first 
witnessed," writes the one to whom we have above 
alluded, *'this manner of procuring squirrels, while 
near the town of Frankfort. The performer was the 
celebrated Daniel Boone. We walked out togethef 
and foliowfid the rocky margins of the Kentucky river. 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. J I 

anttl we reached a piece of flat land, thickly covered 
with black walnuts, oaks, and hickories. Squirrels 
were seen gambolling on every tree around us. My 
companion Mr. Boone, a stout, hale, athletic man, 
dressed in a home-spun hunting shirt, bare legged and 
moccasined, carried a long and hea\y rifle, which, as 
he was loading it, he said had proved efficient in all 
his former undertakings, and which he hoped would 
not fail on this occasion, as he felt proud to show me 
his skill. 

"The gun was wiped, the powder measured, the 
ball patched with six hundred thread linen, and a 
charge sent home with a hickory rod. We moved not 
a step from the place, for the squirrels were so thick, 
that it was unnecessary to go after them. Boom^ 
pointed to one of these animals, which had observed 
us and was crouched on a tree, about fifty paces 
distant, and bade me mark well where the ball should 
hit. He raised his piece gradually, until the head, of 
sight of the barrel, was brought to a line with the spot 
he intended to strike. The whip-like report resounded 
through the woods, and along the hills, in repeated 
echoes. Judge of my surprise, when I perceived that 
the ball had hit the piece of bark immediately under- 
neath the squirrel, and shivered it into splinters ; the 
concussion produced by which had killed the animal, 
and sent it whirling through the air, as if it had beeo 



'Jl DANIEL BOONE. 

blown up by the explosion of a powder magazine. 
Boone kept up his firing, and before many hours had 
elapsed, we had procured as many squirrels as we 
wished. Since that first interview with the veteran 
Boone, I have seen many other individuals perform 
the same feat. 

** The Snuffing of a Candle with a ball, I first had 
an opportunity of seeing near the banks of Green 
River, not far from a large pigeon roost, to which I 
had previously made a visit. I had heard many 
reports of guns during the early part of a dark night, 
and knowing them to be rifles, I went towards the 
spot to ascertain the cause. On reaching the place, I 
was welcomed by a dozen tall, stout men, who told 
me they were exercising for the purpose of enabling 
them to shoot in the night at the reflected light from 
the eyes of a deer, or wolf, by torch-light. 

" A fire was blazing near, the smoke of which rose 
curling among the thick foliage of the trees. At a 
distance which rendered it scarcely distinguishable, 
stood a burning candle, which in reality was only fifty 
yards from the spot on which we all stood. One man 
was within a few yards of it to watch the effect of the 
shots, as well as to light the candle, should it chance 
to go out, or to replace it should the shot cut it across. 
Each marksman shot in his turn. Some never hit 
neither the snuff or the candle, and were congratulated 



HIS EARLY ADVENTURES. 



73 



with a loud laugh ; while others actually snuffed the 
candle without putting it out, and were recompensed 
for their dexterity with numerous hurrahs. One of 
them, who was particularly expert, was very fortunate 
and snuffed the candle three times out of seven ; while 
all the othxer shots either put out the candle oi oit it 
Immediately under the light. 




CHAPTER III. 
Louisiana^ its Discovery and Vicissitudes* 

LouiBiana, and Its eyentful history. — The Expedition of de Sjto.— .Th« 
Missionary Marquette. — His voyage on the Upper Mississippi. — 
The Expedition of La Salle. — Michilimackinao. — Its History.—. 
Pate of the «« Griffin." — Grief of La Salle His voyage of Dis- 
covery. — Sale of Louisiana to the United States. — Remarks ol 
Napoleon. 

The transfer of Louisiana to the United States is 
one of the most interesting events in the history of 
our country. In the year 1800, Spain, then in 
possession of the vast region west of the Mississippi, 
ceded it to France. The whole country west of the 
majestic river appropriately called the Father of 
Waters, was then called Louisiana, and its boundaries 
were very obscurely defined. Indeed neither the 
missionary nor the hunter had penetrated but a very 
short distance into those unknown wilds. It was in 
the year 1 541 that De Soto, marching from Florida 
across the country, came to the banks of this magnifi- 
cent river, near the present site of Memphis. lie 
knew not where it took its rise, or where it emptied 
its swollen flood. But he found a stream more than 

a mile in width, of almost fathomless depth, rolling 

74 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC 7$ 

its rapid, turbid stream, on which were floated 
innumerable logs and trees, through an almost unin- 
habited country of wonderful luxuriance. He was in 
search of gold, and crossing the river, advanced in ^ 
north-westerly direction about two hundred miles, till 
he came within sight of the Highlands of the White 
River. He then turned in a southerly direction, and 
continued his explorations, till death soon terminated 
his melancholy career. 

More than one hundred and thirty years passed 
over these solitudes, when James Marquette, a French 
missionary among the Indians at Saint Marys, the 
outlet of Lake Superior, resolved to explore the 
Mississippi, of whose magnificence he had heard much 
from the lips of the Indians, who had occasionally 
extended their hunting tours to its banks. He was 
inured to all the hardships of the wilderness, seemed 
to despise wordly comforts, and had a soul of bravery 
which could apparently set all perils at defiance. 
And still he was indued with a poetic nature, which re- 
veled in the charms of these wild and romantic realms, 
as he climbed its mountains and floated in his canoe 
over its silent and placid streams. Even then it was not 
known whether the Mississippi emptied its majestic 
flood into the Pacific Ocean or into the Gulf of Mexico 
The foot of the white man upon the shores of Lake Su- 
perior, had never penetrated beyond the Indian village^ 



76 DANIEL BOONE. 

where the Fox River enters into Green Bay. From this 
point Marquette started for the exploration of the 
Mississippi. The party consisted of Mr. Marquette, 
a French gentleman by the name of Joliete, five French 
voyageurs and two Indian guides. They transported 
their two birch canoes on their shoulders across the 
portage from the Fox River to the Wisconsin river. 
Paddling rapidly down this stream through realms of 
silence and solitude, they soon entered the majestic 
Mississippi, more than fifteen hundred miles above 
its mouth. 

Marquette seems to have experienced in the high- 
est degree the romance of his wonderful voyage, foi^ 
he says that he commenced the descent of the mighty 
river with *' a joy that could not be expressed." It 
was the beautiful month of June, 1673, the most 
genial season of the year. The skies were bright 
above them. The placid stream was fringed with 
banks of wonderful luxuriance and beauty, the rocky 
cliffs at times assuming the aspect of majestic castles 
of every variety of architecture ; again the gently 
swelling hills were robed in sublime forests, and 
again the smooth meadows, in their verdure, spread 
far away to the horizon. Rapidly the canoes, gently 
guided by the paddles, floated down the stream. 

Having descended the river about one hundred and 
eighty miles, they came to a very well trod Indian 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC. ^^ 

trail leading back from the river into the interior. Mar- 
quette and Joliete had the curiosity and the courage 
to follow this trail for six miles, until they came to an 
Indian village. It would seem that some of the 
Indians there, in their hunting excursions, had wan- 
dered to some of the French settlements ; for four of 
their leading men, dressed in the most gorgeous dis- 
play of barbaric pomp, " brilliant with many colored 
plumes," came out to meet them and conducted them 
to the cabin of their chief. He addressed them in the 
following words : 

" How beautiful is the sun, Frenchman, when thou 
comest to visit us. Our whole village welcomes thee. 
In peace thou shalt enter all our dwellings." 

After a very pleasant visit they resumed their voyage. 
They floated by the mouth of the turbid Missouri, 
little dreaming of the grandeur of the realms watered 
by that imperial stream. They passed the mouth of 
the Ohio, which they recognized as the Belle Riviere, 
which the Indians then called the Wabash. As the>* 
floated rapidly away towards the south they visited 
many Indian villages on the banks of the stream, 
where the devoted missionary, Marquette, endeavored 
to proclaim the gospel of Christ. 

" I did not," says Marquette, " fear death. I should 
have esteemed it the greatest happiness to have died 
for the glory of God." 



yS DANIEL BOONE. 

Thus they continued their exploration as far south 
as the mouth of the Arkansas river, where they were 
hospitably received in a very flourishing Indian vil- 
lage. Being now satisfied that the Mississippi river 
entered the Gulf of Mexico, somewhere between 
Florida and California, they returned to Green Bay 
by the route of the Illinois river. By taking advan- 
tage of the eddies, on either side of the stream, it was 
not difficult for them, in their light canoes, to make 
the ascent. 

Marquette landed on the western banks of Lake 
Michigan to preach the gospel to a tribe of Indians 
called the Miames, residing near the present site of 
Chicago. Joliete returned to Quebec to announce the 
result of their discoveries. He was received with 
great rejoicing. The whole population flocked to the 
cathedral, where the Te Demn was sung. 

Five years passed away, during which the great 
river flowed almost unthought of, through its vast 
and sombre wilderness. At length in the year 1678, 
La Salle received a commission from Louis the XIV. 
of France to explore the Mississippi to its mouth. 
Having received from the king the command of 
Fort Frontenac, at the northern extremity of Lake 
Ontario, and a monopoly of the fur trade in all the 
countries he should discover, he sailed from Larochelle 
in a ship well armed and abundantly supplied, in 



"LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC. 79 

June, 1678. Ascending the St. Lawrence to Quebec, 
he repaired to Fort Frontenac. With a large number 
of men he paddled, in birch canoes, to the southern 
extremity of Lake Ontario, and, by a portage around 
the falls of Niagara, entered Lake Erie. Here he 
built a substantial vessel, called the Gidfin, which 
was the first vessel ever launched upon the waters of 
that lake. Embarking in this vessel with forty men, 
in the month of September, a genial and gorgeous 
month in those latitudes, he traversed with favoring 
breezes the whole length of the lake, a voyage of two 
hundred and sixty-five miles, ascended the straits 
and passed through the Lake of St. Clair, and ran 
along the coast of Lake Huron three hundred and 
sixty miles to Michilimackinac, where the three ma- 
jestic lakes, Superior, Michigan and Huron, form a 
junction. 

Here a trading post was established, which subse- 
quently attained world-wide renown, and to which 
the Indians flocked with their furs from almost 
boundless realms. Mr. Schoolcraft, who some years 
after visited this romantic spot, gives the following 
interesting account of the scenery and strange life 
witnessed there. As these phases of human life have 
now passed away, never to be renewed, it seems im- 
portant that the memory of them should be per- 
petuated ; 



80 DANIEL BOONE. 

" Nothing can present a more picturesque and re- 
freshing spectacle to the traveler, wearied with the 
lifeless monotony of a voyage through Lake Huron, 
than the first sight of the island of Michilimackinac, 
which rises from the watery horizon in lofty bluffs 
imprinting a rugged outline along the sky and capped 
with a fortress on which the American flag is seen 
waving against the blue heavens. The name is a 
compound of the word Misril^ signifying great, and 
Mackinac the Indian word for turtle, from a fancied 
resemblance of the island to a great turtle lying upon 
the water. 

" It is a spot of much interest, aside from its ro- 
mantic beauty, in consequence of its historical asso- 
ciations and natural curiosities. It is nine miles in 
circumference, and its extreme elevation above the 
lake is over three hundred feet The town is pleas- 
antly situated around a small bay at the southern 
extremity of the island, and contains a few hundred 
souls, which are sometimes swelled to one or two 
thousand by the influx of voyageurs, traders and 
Indians. On these occasions its beautiful harbor is 
seen checkered with American vessels at anchor, and 
Indian canoes rapidly shooting across the water in 
every direction. 

" It was formerly the seat of an extensive fur trade ; 
at present it is noted for the great amount of trout 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC. 8 1 

and white fish annually exported. Fort Mackinac 
stood on a rocky bluff overlooking the town. The 
ruins of Fort Holmes are on the apex of the island. 
It was built by the British in the war of 1812, under 
the name of Fort George, and was changed to its 
present appellation after the surrender to the Amer- 
icans, in compliment to the memory of Major 
Holmes, who fell in the attack upon the island. 

" The old town of Michilimackinac stood at the ex- 
treme point of the peninsula of Michigan, nine miles 
south of the island. Eight years before La Salle's ex- 
pedition. Father Marquette, the French missionary, 
visited this spot with a party of Hurons, upon whom 
he prevailed to locate themselves. A fort was soon 
constructed, and became an important post. It con- 
tinued to be the seat of the fur trade, and the undis- 
turbed rendezvous of the Indian tribes during the whole 
period that the French excercised dominion over the 
Canadas." 

Here at Michilimackinac, La Salle purchased a 
rich cargo of furs, exchanging for them his goods at 
an immense profit. The Griffiii, laden with wealth, 
set out on her return and was wrecked by the way 
with total loss. La Salle with his companions had 
embarked in birch canoes, and descending Lake 
Michigan to near its southern extremity, they landed 
and erected a fort which they called Miamis. They 



g2 DANIEL BOONE. 

then carried their canoes across to the Illinois river 
and paddled down that stream until they came near 
to the present site of Peoria, where they established 
another fort, which La Salle, grief-stricken in view of 
his loss, named Crkve-Cceur, or Heartsore. Here the 
energetic and courageous adventurer left his men in 
winter quarters, while, with but three companions, he 
traversed the wilderness on foot, amidst the snows of 
winter, to Fort Frontenac, a distance of fifteen hun- 
dred miles. After an absence of several weeks, he 
returned with additional men and the means of build- 
ing a large and substantial flat-bottomed boat, with 
which to descend the Illinois river to the Mississippi, 
and the latter stream to its mouth. 

The romantic achievement was successfully accom- 
plished. The banners of France were unfurled along 
the banks of the majestic river and upon the shores 
of the Gulf of Mexico. This whole region which 
France claimed by the right of discovery, was named 
in her or of the king of France, Louisiana. Its limits 
were necessarily quite undefined. In 1684, a French 
colony of two hundred and eighty persons was sent 
out to effect a settlement on the Lower Mississippi. 
Passing bv the mouth of the river without discover* 
ing it^ they landed in Texas, and took possession of 
the country in the name of the king of France. 
Disaster followed disaster. La Salle died, and the 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC 83 

colonists were exterminated by the Indians. Not 
long after this, all the country west of the Mississippi 
was ceded by France to Spain, and again, some years 
after, was surrendered back again by Spain to France, 
We have not space here to allude to the details of 
these varied transactions. But this comprehensive 
record seems to be essential to the full understanding 
of the narrative upon which we have entered. 

It was in the year 1763 that Louisiana was ceded, 
by France, to Spain. In the year 1800, it was yielded 
b-^ck to France, under Napoleon, by a secret article 
iu the treaty of Sn. Ildefonso. It had now become a 
matter of infinite moment to the United States that 
the great Republic should have undisputed command 
of the Mississippi, from its source to its mouth. 
President Jefferson instructed our Minister at Paris, 
Robert Livingston, to negotiate with the French 
Government for the purchase of Louisiana. France 
was then at war with England. The British fleet 
swept triumphantly all the seas. Napoleon, conscious 
that he could not protect I ouisiana from British 
arms, consented to the sale. We are informed that 
on the loth of April, 1803, he summoned two of his 
ministers in council, and said to them : 

" I am fully sensible of the value of Louisiana ; and 
it was my wish to repair the error of the French dip- 
lomatists who abandoned it in 1763. I have scarcely 



84 DANIEL BOONE. 

recovered it before I run the risk of losing it But if 
I am obliged to give it up it shall cost more to those 
who force me to part with it, than to those to whom 
I yield it. The English have despoiled France of aM 
her Northern possessions in America, and now they 
covet those of the South. I am determined that they 
shall not have the Mississippi. Although Louisiana 
is but a trifle compared with their vast possessions in 
other parts of the globe, yet, judging from the vexa- 
tion they have manifested on seeing it return to the 
power of France, I am certain that their first object 
will be to obtain possession of it. 

** They will probably commence the war in that 
quarter. They have twenty vessels in the Gulf of 
Mexico, and our affairs in St. Domingo are daily 
getting worse, since the death of Le Clere. The con- 
quest of Louisiana might be easily made, and I have 
not a moment to lose in putting it out of their reach. 
I am not sure but that they have already began an 
attack upon it. Such a measure would be in accord- 
ance with their habits ; and in their place I should 
not wait. I am inclined, in order to deprive them of 
all prospect of ever possessing it, to cede it to the 
United States. Indeed I can hardly say I cede it, 
for I do not yet possess it. And if I wait but a short 
time, my enemies may leave me nothing but an empty 
title to grant to the R epublic I wish to conciliate. They 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC. 85 

ft only ask for one city of Louisiana; but I consider f' 
' the whole colony as lost. And I believe that in the 
hands of this rising power, it will be more useful to 
the political and even the commercial interests of 
France, than if I should attempt to retain it. Let 
me have both of your opinions upon this subject." 

One of the ministers, Barbe Marbois, cordially 
approved of the plan of " cession." The other oppo- 
sed it. After long deliberation, the conference was 
closed, without Napoleon making known his decision. 
The next day he sent for Barbe Marbois, and said to 
him : 

" The season for deliberation is over. I have 
determined to part with Louisiana. I shall give up 
not only New Orleans, but the whole colony without 
reservation. That I do not undervalue Louisiana I 
have sufficiently proved, as the object of my first 
treaty with Spain was to recover it. But though I 
regret parting with it, I am convinced that it would 
be folly to persist in trying to keep it. I commission 
you, therefore, to negotiate this affair with the envoys 
of the United States. Do not wait the arrival of Mr. f 
Munroe, but go this very day and confer with Mr. / 
Livingston. 

" Remember, however, that I need ample funds for 
carrying on the war ; and I do not wish to commence 
it by levying new taxes. During the last century. 



86 DANIEL BOONE. 

France and Spain have incurred great expense in the 
improvement of Louisiana, for which her trade has 
never indemnified them. Large sums have been 
advanced to different companies, which have never 
returned to the treasury. It is fair that I should 
require payment for these. Were I to regulate my 
demands by the importance of this territory to the 
United States, they would be unbounded. But being 
obliged to part with it, I shall be moderate in my 
terms. Still, remember I must have fifty millions of 
francs ($10,000,000), and I will not consent to take less. 
I would rather make some desperate effort to preserve 
this fine country." 

Negotiations commenced that day. Soon Mr. 
Munroe arrived. On the 30th of April, 1803, the 
treaty was signed, the United States paying fifteen 
million dollars for the entire territory. It was 
stipulated by Napoleon that Louisiana should be, as 
soon as possible, incorporated into the Union ; and 
that its inhabitants should enjoy the same rights, 
privileges, and immunities as other citizens of the 
United States. The third article of the treaty, securing 
to them these benefits, was drawn up by Napoleon 
himself. He presented it to the plenipotentiaries with 
these words : 

" Make it known to the people of Louisiana, that 
we regret to part with them ; that we have stipulated 



LOUISIANA, ITS DISCOVERY, ETC. 87 

for all the advantages they could desire ; and that 
France, in giving them up, has insured to them the 
greatest of all. They could never have prospered 
under any European government, as they will when 
they become independent. But while they enjoy the 
privileges of liberty, let them ever remember that they 
are French, and preserve for their mother country 
that affection, which a common origin inspires." 

This purchase was an immense acquisition to the 
United States. "I consider," said Mr. Livingston. 
"that from this day, the United States take rank 
with the first powers of Europe, and now she has 
entirely escaped from the power of England." 

Napoleon was also well pleased with the transaction, 
'* By this cession," he said, " I have secured the power 
of the United States, and given to England a maritime 
rival, who, at some future time, will humble her 
pride." 

The boundaries of this unexampled purchase could 
not be clearly defined. There was not any known 
landmarks to which reference could be made. The 
United States thus had the sole claim to the vast 
territory west of the Mississippi, extending on the 
north through Oregon to the Pacific Ocean, and on 
the south to the Mexican dominions. From the day oi 
the transfer, the natural resources of the great valley 
of the Mississippi began to be rapidly developed. 



S8 



DANIEL BOONE. 



The accompanying map will enable the reader more 
fully to understand the geography of the above 
narrative. 




CHAPTER III. 
Camp Life Beyond the Alleghanies, 

John Plnley and hte Adventures. — Aspect of the Country. — Boone's 
Private Character. — His Love for the Wilderness. — First view of 
Kentucky. — Emigrants* Dress. — Hunter's Home. — Capture of 
Boone and Stewart by the Indians. — Their Escape. — Singular 
Incident. 

In the year 1767, a bold hunter by the name of 
John Finley with two or three companions crossed 
the mountain range of the Alleghanies into the region 
beyond, now known as Kentucky. The mountains 
where he crossed, consisting of a series of parallel 
ridges, some of which were quite impassable save at 
particular points, presented a rugged expanse nearly 
fifty miles in breadth. It took many weary days for 
these moccassined feet to traverse the wild solitudes. 
The Indian avoids the mountains. He chooses the 
smooth prairie where the buffalo and the elk graze, 
and where the wild turkey, the grouse and the prairie 
chicken, wing their flight, or the banks of some placid 
stream over which he can glide in his birch canoe, and 
where fish of every variety can be taken. Indeed 
the Indians, with an eye for picturesque beauty, 
seldom reared their villages in the forest, whose glooms 

(89) 



90 DANIEL BOONE. 

repelled them. Generally where the forest approached 
the stream, they clustered their wigwams in its edge, 
with the tranquil river and the open country spread 
out before them. 

John Finley and his companions traversed the broad 
expanse of the Alleghanies, without meeting any 
signs of human life. The extreme western ridge of 
these parallel eminences or spurs, has received the 
name of the Cumberland mountains. Passing through 
a gorge, which has since then become renowned in 
peace and war as Cumberland Gap, they entered upon 
a vast undulating expanse, of wonderful fertility and 
beauty. In its rivers, its plains, its forests, its gentle 
eminences, its bright skies and salubrious clime, it 
presented then, as now, as attractive a residence for 
man as this globe can furnish. Finley and his com- 
panions spent several months roving through this, 
to them, new Eden. Game of every variety abounded. 
Through some inexplicable reason, no Indians held 
possession of the country. But wandering tribes, 
whose homes and acknowledged territory were far 
away in the north, the west, and the south, were ever 
traversing these regions in hunting bands. They 
often met in bloody encounters. These conflicts 
were so frequent and so sanguinary, that this realm 
subsequently received the appropriate name of " The 
dark and bloody ground/ 



CAMP LIFE. 91 

After an absence of many months, Finley and his 
companions returned to North Carolina, with the 
most glowing accounts of the new country which they 
had found, Their story of the beauty of those realms 
was so extravagant, that many regarded them as gross 
exaggerations. It subsequently appeared, however, 
that they were essentially true. A more lovely and 
attractive region cannot be found on earth. It is 
man's inhumanity to man, mainly, which has ever 
caused such countless millions to mourn. 

Daniel Boone listened eagerly to the recital of John 
Finley and his associates. The story they told 
added fuel to the flame of emigration, which was 
already consuming him. He talked more and more 
earnestly of his desire to cross the mountains. We 
know not what were the emotions with which his wife 
was agitated, in view of her husband's increasing 
desire for another plunge into the wilderness. We 
simply know that through her whole career, she 
manifested the most tender solicitude to accommodate 
herself to the wishes of her beloved husband. Indeed 
he was a man peculiarly calculated to win a noble 
H^oman's love. Gentle in his demeanor, and in all his 
utterances, mild and affectionate in his intercourse 
with his family, he seemed quite unconscious of the 
heroism he manifested in those achievements, which 
gave him ever increasing renown. 



92 DANIEL BOONE. 

Life in the L'abin of the frontiersman, where the 
wants are few, and the supplies abundant, is compara- 
tively a leisure life. These men knew but little o( 
the hurry and the bustle with which those in the 
crowded city engage daily in the almost deadly strug- 
gle for bread. There was no want in the cabin of 
Daniel Boone. As these two hardy adventurers, 
John Finley and Daniel Boone, sat together hour 
after hour by the fire, talking of the new countiy 
which Finley had explored, the hearts of both burned 
within them again to penetrate those remote realms. 
To them there were no hardships in the journey. At 
the close of each day's march, they could in a few 
moments throw up a shelter, beneath which they 
would enjoy more luxurious sleep than the traveler, 
after being rocked in the rail-cars, can now find on 
the softest couches of our metropolitan hotels. And 
the dainty morsel cut with artistic skill from the fat 
buffalo, and toasted on the end of a ramrod before 
the camp fire, possessed a relish which few epicures 
have ever experienced at the most sumptuous tables 
in Paris or New York. And as these men seem to 
have been constitutionally devoid of any emotions of 
fear from wild beasts, or still wilder Indians, the idea 
of a journey of a few hundred miles in the wilderness 
was not one to be regarded by them with any special 
solicitude. 



CAMP LIFE. 93 

Gradually they formed a plan for organizing a 
small party to traverse these beautiful realms in 
search of a new home. A company of six picked 
men was formed, and Daniel Boone was chosen their 
leader. The names of this party were John Finley, 
John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Moncey, and 
William Cool. A journey of many hundred miles 
was before them. Through the vast mountain bar- 
rier, which could only be traversed by circuitous wan- 
derings some hundreds of miles in extent, their route 
was utterly pathless, and there were many broad and 
rapid streams to be crossed, which flowed through 
the valleys between the mountain ridges. Though 
provision in abundance was scattered along the way, 
strong clothing must be provided, powder and bullets 
they must take with them, and all these necessaries 
were to be carried upon their backs, for no pack 
horses could thread the defiles of the mountains or 
climb their rugged cliffs. It was also necessary to 
make provision for the support of the families of 
these adventurers during their absence of many 
months. It does not appear that Mrs. Boone pre- 
sented any obstacle in the way of her husband's em- 
barking in this adventure. Her sons were old enough 
to assist her in the management of the farm, and 
game was still to be found in profusion in the silent 
prairies and sublime forests which surrounded them. 



94 DANIEL BUOiNt. 

In the sunny clime of North CaroHiia May comes 
with all the balminess and soft zephyrs of a more 
northern summer. It was a beautiful morning on 
the first day of May, 1769, when Boone and his com- 
panions commenced their adventurous journey. In 
the brief narrative which Boone has given of this ex- 
cursion, we perceive that it was with some consider- 
able regret that he separated himself from his much 
loved wife and children on the peaceful banks of the 
Yadkin. 

We must infer that the first part of their journey 
was fatiguing, for it took them a full month to ac- 
complish the passage of the mountains. Though it 
was less than a hundred miles across these ridges in 
a direct line, the circuitous route which it was neces- 
sary to take greatly lengthened the distance. And 
as they were never in a hurry, they would be very 
likely, when coming to one of the many lovely valleys 
on the banks of the Holstein, or the Clinch river, to 
be enticed to some days of delay. Where now there 
are thriving villages filled with the hum of the indus- 
tries of a high civilization, there was then but the 
solitary landscape dotted with herds of buffalo and 
of deer. 

Boone says that in many of these regions he found 
buffalo roving in companies of several hundreds feed- 
ing upon tke tender leaves of the canebrake, or 



CAMP LIFE. 95 

browsing upon the smooth and extended meadows. 
Being far removed from the usual route of the Indian 
hunters, they were very tame, manifesting no fear at 
the approach of man. 

On the seventh of June, our adventurers, at the 
close of a day of arduous travel, reached an eminence 
of the Cumberland Mountains, which gave them a 
commanding and an almost entrancing view of the 
region beyond, now known as the State of Kentucky. 
At the height upon which they stood, the expanse 
spreading out to the West, until lost in the distant, 
horizon, presented an aspect of nature's loveliness' 
such as few eyes have ever beheld. The sun was 
brilliantly sinking, accompanied by a gorgeous retinue 
of clouds. Majestic forests, wide-spread prairies, and 
lakes and rivers, gilded by the setting sun, confirmed 
the truth of the most glowing reports which had been 
heard from the lips of Finley. An artist has seized 
upon this incident, which he has transferred to 
canvass, in a picture which he has entitled, " Daniel 
Boone's first view of Kentucky." Engravings have 
been so multiplied of this painting, that it has become 
familiar to most eyes. 

The appearance of our adventurers is thus graphi- 
cally described by Mr. Peck, in his excellent Life of 
Daniel Boone. ' . 

" Their dress was of the description usually worn at 



96 DANIEL BOONE. 

that perbd by all forest-rangers. The outside garment 
was a hunting shirt, or loose open frock, made of 
dressed deer-skins. Leggins, or drawers, of the same 
material, covered the lower extremities, to which was 
appended a pair of moccasins for the feet. The cape 
or collar of the hunting shirt, and the seams of the 
leggins were adorned with fringes. The under- 
garments were of coarse cotton. A leather belt 
encircled the body. On the right side was suspended 
the tomahawk, to be used as a hatchet. On the left 
was the hunting-knife, powder-horn, bullet-pouch, and 
other appendages indispensable for a hunter. Each 
person bore his trusty rifle, and as the party made its 
toilsome way amid the shrubs, and over the logs and 
loose shrubs, that accident had thrown upon the 
obscure trail they were following, each man gave a 
sharp lookout, as though danger, or a lurking enemy 
were near. Their garments were soiled and rent ; the 
unavoidable result of long travel and exposure to the 
heavy rains which had fallen, the weather having been 
stormy and uncomfortable, and they had traversed a 
mountainous wilderness for several hundred miles. 
The leader of the party was of full size, with a hardy, 
robust, sinewy frame, and keen piercing hazel eyes, 
that glanced with quickness at every object as they 
passed on, now cast forward in the direction they 
were travelling, for signs f»f an old trail, and in the 



CAMP LIFE. 97 

next moment directed askance into the dense forest 
or the deep ravine, as if watching some concealed 
enemy. The reader will recognise in this man, the 
pioneer Boone at the head of his companions." 

The peculiar character of these men is developed 
in the fact, that, rapidly descending the western de- 
clivity of the mountains, they came to a beautiful 
meadow upon the banks of a little stream now called 
Red River. Here they reared their hut, and here 
they remained in apparently luxurious idleness all 
the summer ; and here Daniel Boone remained all of 
the ensuing winter. Their object could scarcely have 
been to obtain furs, for they could not transport them 
across the mountains. There were in the vicinity 
quite a number of salt springs which the animals of 
the forest frequented in immense numbers. In the 
brief account which Boone gives of these long months, 
he simply says : 

" In this forest, the habitation of beasts of every 
kind natural to America, we practised hunting with 
great success until the twenty-second day of Decem- 
ber following." 

Bears, buffalo and deer were mainly the large game 
which fell before their rifles. Water-fowl, and also 
land birds of almost every variety, were found in 
great profusion. It must have been a strange life 
which these six men experienced during these seven 



98 DANIEL BOONE. 

months in the camp on the silent waters of the Red 
River. No Indians were seen, and no traces of them 
were discovered through this period. The hunters 
made several long excursions in various directions, 
apparently examining the country in reference to 
their own final settlement in it, and to the introduc- 
tion of emigrants from the Atlantic border. Indeed 
it has been said that Daniel Boone was the secret 
agent of a company on the other side of the moun- 
tains, who wished to obtain possession of a large 
extent of territory for the formation of a colony there. 
But of this nothing with certainty is known. Yet 
there must have been some strong controlling motive 
to have induced these men to remain so long in their 
camp, which consisted simply of a shed of logs, on 
the banks of this solitary stream. 

Three sides of the hut were enclosed. The inter- 
stices between the logs were filled with moss or clay. 
The roof was also carefully covered with bark, so as 
to be impervious to rain. The floor was spread ovei 
with dry leaves and with the fragrant twigs of the 
hemlock, presenting a very inviting couch for the re- 
pose of weary men. The skins of buffaloes and of 
bears presented ample covering for their night's re- 
pose. The front of the hut, facing the south, was 
entirely open, before which blazed their camp-fire. 
Here the men seem to have been very happy. The 



CAMP LIFE. 99 

climate was mild ; they were friendly to each other ; 
they had good health and abundance of food was 
found in their camp. 

On the twenty-second of December, Boone, with 
one of his companions, John Stewart, set out on one 
of their exploring tours. There were parts of the 
country called canebrakes, covered with cane growing 
so thickly together as to be quite impenetrable to the 
hunter. Through portions of these the buffaloes had 
trampled their way in large companies, one following 
another, opening paths called streets. These streets 
had apparently been trodden for ages. Following 
these paths, Boone and his companion had advanced 
several miles from their camp, when suddenly a large 
party of Indians sprang from their concealment and 
seized them both as captives. The action was so 
sudden that there was no possibility of resistance. In 
the followinc^ words Boone describes this event : 

*' This day John Stewart and I had a pleasing ram^ 
ble, but fortune changed the scene in the close of it 
We had passed through a great forest, on which stood 
myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, others rich 
with fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders and 
a fund of delight. Here she displayed her ingenuity 
and industry in a variety of flowers and fruits, beau- 
tifully colored, elegantly shaped, and charmingly 
flavored ; and we were diverted with innumerable 



Qf . 



lOO DANIEL BOONE. 

animals presenting themselves perpetually to our 
view. 

" In the decline of the day, near Kentucky river, as 
we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number of 
Indians rushed out upon us from a thick canebrake 
and made us prisoners. The time of our sorrow was 
now arrived. They plundered us of what we had, 
and kept us in confinement seven days, treating us 
with common savage usage." 

The peculiar character of Boone was here remark- 
ably developed. His whole course of life had made 
him familiar with the manners and customs of the 
Indians. They were armed only with bows and ar- 
rows. He had the death-dealing rifle which they 
knew not how to use. His placid temper was never 
ruffled by elation in prosperity or despair in adver- 
sity. He assumed perfect contentment with his lot, 
cultivated friendly relations with them, taught them 
many things they did not know, and aided them in 
all the ways in his power. His rifle ball would in- 
stantly strike down the buffalo, when the arrow of the 
Indian would only goad him to frantic flight. 

The Indians admired the courage of their captive, 
appreciated his skill, and began to regard him as a 
friend and a helper. They relaxed their vigilance* 
while every day they were leading their prisoners far 
away from their camp into the boundless West 



CAMP LIFE. lOl 

Boone was so well acquainted with the Indian char- 
acter as to be well aware that any attempt to escape, 
if unsuccessful, would cause his immediate death. 
The Indians, exasperated by what they would deem 
such an insult to their hospitality, would immediately 
bury the tomahawk in his brain. Thus seven days 
and nights passed away. 

At the close of each day's travel the Indians selected 
some attractive spot for the night's encampment or 
bivouac, according to the state of the weather, near 
some spring or stream. Here they built a rousing 
fire, roasted choice cuts from the game they had 
taken, and feasted abundantly with jokes and laugh- 
ter, and many boastful stories of their achievements. 
They then threw themselves upon the ground for 
sleep, though some one was appointed to keep a watch 
over their captives. But deceived by the entire con- 
tentment and friendliness, feigned by Boone, and by 
Stewart who implicitly followed the counsel of his 
leader's superior mind, all thoughts of any attempt of 
their captives to escape soon ceased to influence the 
savages. 

On the seventh night after the capture, the Indians, 
gorged with an abundant feast, were all soundly 
asleep. It was midnight. The flickering fire burned 
feebly. The night was dark. They were in the 
midst of an apparently boundless forest. The favor- 



102 DANIEL BOONE. 

able hour for an attempt to escape had come. But it 
was full of peril. Failure was certain death, for the 
Indians deemed it one of the greatest of all crimes 
for a captive who had been treated with kindness to 
attempt to escape. A group of fierce savages were 
sleeping around, each one of whom accustomed to 
midnight alarms, was supposed to sleep, to use an 
expressive phrase, "with one eye open." Boone, 
who had feigned sound slumber, cautiously awoke 
his companion who was asleep and motioned him to 
follow. The rustling of a leaf, the crackling of a 
twig, would instantly cause every savage to grasp his 
bow and arrow and spring from the ground. Fortu- 
nately the Indians had allowed their captives to re- 
tain their guns, which had proved so valuable in 
obtaining game. 

With step as light as the fall of a feather these men 
with moccasined feet crept from the encampment 
After a few moments of intense solicitude, they found 
themselves in the impenetrable gloom of the forest, 
and their captors still undisturbed. With vastly 
superior native powers to the Indian, and equally accus- 
tomed to forest life, Boone was in all respects their 
superior. With the instinct of the bee, he made a 
straight line towards the encampment they had left, 
with the locality of which the Indians were not ac- 
quainted. The peril which menaced them added 



CAMP LIFE. 103 

wings to their flight. It was mid-wii ter, and though 
not very cold in that ch'mate. fortunately for them, the 
December nights were long. 

Six precious hours would pass before the dawn of 
the morning would struggle through the tree-tops. 
Till then the bewildered Indians could obtain no clue 
whatever to the direction of their flight. Carefully 
guarding against leaving any traces of their footsteps 
behind them, and watching with an eagle eye lest 
they should encounter any other band of savages, 
they pressed forward hour after hour with sinew? ap- 
parently as tireless as if they had been wrought of iron. 
When the fugitives reached their camp they found it 
plundered and deserted. Whether the red men had 
discovered it and carried ofl" their companions as 
prisoners, or whether the white men in a panic had 
destroyed what they could not remove and had at- 
tempted a retreat to the settlements, was never 
known. It is probable that in some way they per- 
ished in the wilderness, and that their fate is to be 
added to the thousands of tragedies occurring in this 
world which no pen has recorded. 

The intrepid Boone and his companion Stewart 
seemed, however, to have no idea of abandoning their 
encampment. But apprehensive that the Indians 
might have discovered their retreat, they reared a 
small hut in another spot, still more secret and 



I04 DANIEL BOONE. 

secure. It is difficult to imagine what motive could 
have led these two men to remain any longer in these 
solitudes, five hundred miles from home, exposed to 
so many privations and to such fearful peril. Not- 
withstanding the utmost care in husbanding their 
resources, their powder and lead were rapidly disap- 
pearing, and there was no more to be obtained in the 
wilderness. But here they remained a month, doing 
apparently nothing, but living luxuriously, according 
to their ideas of good cheer. The explanation is 
probably to be found in the fascination of this life of 
a hunter, which once enjoyed, seems almost irresist- 
ible, even to those accustomed to all the appliances 
of a high civilization. 

A gentleman from New York, who spent a winter 
among the wild scenes of the Rocky Mountains, 
describes in the following graphic language, the effect 
of these scenes upon his own mind : 

" When I turned my horse's head from Pikes Peak 
I quite regretted the abandonment of my mountair 
life, solitary as it was, and more than once thought of 
again taking the trail to the Salado Valley, where I 
enjoyed such good sport. Apart from the feeling of 
loneliness, which anyone in my situation must natu- 
rally have experienced, surrounded by the stupendous 
works of nature, which in all their solitary grandeur 
Crowned upon me, there was something inexpressibly 



CAMP LIFi:. 105 

exhilarating in the sensation of positive freedom from 
all worldly care, and a consequent expansion of the 
sinews, as it were, of mind and body, which made me 
feel elastic as a ball of india-rubber, and in such a 
state of perfect ease, that no more dread of scalping 
Indians entered my mind, than if I had been sitting in 
Broadway, in one of the windows of the Astor 
House. 

" A citizen of the world, I never found any difficulty 
in investing my resting place wherever it might be, 
with the attributes of a home. Although liable to 
the accusation of barbarism, I must confess that the 
very happiest moments of my life have been spent in 
the wilderness of the Far West. I never recall but 
with pleasure the remembrance of my solitary camp 
in the Bayou Salado, with no friend near me more 
faithful than my rifle. With a plentiful supply of dry 
pine logs on the fire, and its cheerful blaze streaming 
far up into the sky, illuminating the valley far and 
near, I would sit enjoying the genial warmth, and 
watch the blue smoke as it curled upward, building 
castles in its vapory wreaths. Scarcely did I ever 
wish to change such hours of freedom for all the 
luxuries of civilized life ; and, unnatural and extra- 
ordinary as it may appear, yet such are the fascina- 
tions of the life of the mountain hunter, that I believe 
that not one instance could be adduced of even the 



Io6 DANIEL BOONE. 

most polished and civilized of men, who had once 

tasted the sweets of its attendant liberty, and freedons 
from even'' worldly, care, not regretting to exchange 
them for the monotonous life of the settlements, and 
not sighing and sighing again for its pleasures and 
allurements. 

" A hunter's camp in the Rocky Mountains, is quite 
a picture. It is invariably made in a picturesque 
locality, for, like the Indian, the white hunter has an 
eye to the beautiful. Nothing can be more social and 
cheering than the welcome blaze of the camp-fire on 
a cold winter's night, and nothing more amusing or 
entertaining, if not instructive, than the rough con- 
versation of the simple-minded mountaineers, whose 
nearly daily task is all of exciting adventure, since 
their whole existence is spent in scenes of peril and 
privation. Consequently the narration is a tale of 
thrilling accidents, and hair-breadth escapes, which, 
though simple matter-of-fact to them, appears a 
startling romance to those unacquainted with the 
lives led by those men, who, with the sky for a roof, 
and their rifles to supply them with food and clothing, 
call no man lord or master, and are as free as the 
game they follow." 

There are many events which occurred in the lives 
of Boone and his companions, which would seem 
absolutely incredible were they not sustained by 



CAMP LIFE. 107 

evidence beyond dispute. Boone and Stewart were in 
a boundless, pathless, wilderness of forests, mountains, 
rivers and lakes. Their camp could not be reached 
from the settlements, but by a journey of many weeks, 
apparently without the smallest clue to its location. 
And yet the younger brother of Boone, upon whom 
had been conferred his father's singular baptismal 
name of Squire, set out with a companion to cross 
the mountains, in search of Daniel. One day in the 
latter part of January, Boone and Stewart were quite 
alarmed in seeing two men approach their camp. 
They supposed of course that they were Indians, and 
that they were probably followed by a numerous band. 
Escape was impossible. Captivity and death seemed 
certain. But to their suiprise and delight, the two 
strangers proved to be white men ; one the brother 
of Daniel Boone, and the other a North Carolinian 
who had accompanied him. They brought with them 
quite a supply of powder and lead ; inestimable 
treasures in the remote wilderness. Daniel, in his 
Autobiography, in the following simple strain, alludes 
to this extraordinary occurrence : 

" About this time my brother Squire Bocne, with 
another adventurer, who came to explore the country 
shortly after us, was wandering through the forest, 
determined to find me if possible, and accidentally 
found out camp. Notwithstanding the unfortunate 



I08 DANIEL BOONE. 

circuni.stances of our company, and our dangerous 
situation as surrounded by hostile savages, our 
meeting so fortunately in the wilderness made ua 
reciprocally sensible of the utmost satisfaction. So 
much does friendship triumph over misfortune, that 
sorrows and sufferings vanish at the meeting, not only 
of real friends, but of the most distant acquaintances, 
and substitute happiness in their room." 

Our hardy pioneer, far more familiar with his rifle 
than his pen, comments as follows on their condition : 

** We were in a helpless, dangerous situation ; 
exposed daily to perils and death, among savages 
and wild beasts. Not a white man in the country but 
ourselves. Thus situated, many hundred miles from 
our families, in the howling wilderness, I believe few 
would have equally enjoyed the happiness we expe- 
rienced. I often observed to my brother, * You see 
how little nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, 
the companion of content, is rather found in our own 
breasts, than in the enjoyment of external things ; and 
I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to 
make a man happy in whatsoever state he is. This 
consists in a full resignation to the will of Providence ; 
and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed 
with briers and thorns.* ** 



CHAPTER V. 
Indian Warfare, 

Alleghany Rjdges. — Voyage in a canoe — Speech of Logan, — Battle at 
the Kanawha. — Narrative of i^'raiicis iViurion. — important com- 
mission iioone. — Council at Ch'cleville. — Treaty of Peace.— 

Imlay's description of Kentucky. — Settlement right Richard 

Henderson. — Boone's letter. — Fort at Boonesborough. 

The valley of the Clinch liver is but one of the 
many magnificent ravines amid the gigantic ranges 
of the Alleghany mountains. Boone, speaking of 
these ridges which he so often had occasion to cross, 
says : 

" These mountains in the wilderness, as we pass 
from the old settlements in Virginia to Kentucky, are 
ranged in a south-west and north-east direction and 
are of great length and breadth and not far distant 
from each other. Over them nature hath formed 
passes that are less difficult than might be expected 
from a view of such huge piles. The aspect of these 
cliffs is so wild and horrid that it is impossible to be- 
hold them without terror. The spectator is apt to 
imagine that nature has formerly suffered some vio- 
lent convulsion, and that these are the dismembered 
remains of the dreadful shock." 

10 (100) 



no DANIEL BOJNE. 

One cannot but regret that no memorials are left 
of a wonderful journey, full of romantic interest and 
exciting adventure, which Boone at one time took to 
the Falls of the Ohio, to warn some surveyors of their 
danger. He reached them in safety, rescued them 
from certain death, and conducted them triumphantly 
back to the settlements. So long as the white men, 
with their rifles, could keep upon the open prairie, 
they could defend themselves from almost any number 
of Indians, who could only assail them with bows and 
arrows. But the moment they entered the forest, or 
any ravine among the hills, the little band was liable 
to hear the war-whoop of a thousand Indian braves in 
the ambush around, and to be assailed by a storm of 
arrows and javelins from unseen hands. 

A few days after Boone's arrival at the encanip- 
ir^-nt near the Falls of the Ohio, and as the surveyors 
were breaking camp in preparation for their precipi- 
tate retreat, several of their number who had gone to 
a spring at a short distajfcce from the camp, were sud- 
denly attacked on the twentieth of July by a large 
party of Indians. One was instantly killed. The 
rest being nearly surrounded, fled as best they could 
in all directions. One man hotly pursued, rushed 
along an Indian trail till he reached the Ohio river. 
Here he chanced to find a bark canoe. He jumped 
into it and pushed out into the rapid stream till be- 



INDIAN WARFARE. Ill 

yond the reach of the Indian arrows. The swift 
current bore him down the river, by curves and head- 
lands, till he was far beyond the encampment. 

To return against the strong flood, with the savages 
watching for him, seemed perilous, if not impossible. 
It is said that he floated down the whole length of 
the Ohio and of the Mississippi, a distance not less 
probably, counting the curvatures of the stream, than 
two thousand miles, and finally found his way by sea 
to Philadelphia, probably in some vessel which he 
encountered near the coast. This is certainly one of 
the most extraordinary voyages which ever occurred. 
It was mid-summer, so that he could not sufler from 
cold. Grapes often hung in rich clusters in the for- 
ests, which lined the river banks, and various kinds of 
nutritious berries were easily gathered to satisfy 
hunger. 

As these men never went into the forest without 
the rifle and a supply of ammunition, and as they 
never lost a bullet by an inaccurate shot, it is not 
probable that our adventurer suffered from hunger. 
But the incidents of such a voyage must have been 
so wonderful, that it is greatly to be regretted that 
we have no record of them. 

The apprehensions of Lord Dunmore, respecting 
the conspiracy of the Indians, proved to have been 
well founded. Though Boone, with his great sagac'ty, 



112 DANIEL BOONE. 

led his little band by safe paths back to the set- 
tlements; a very fierce warfare immediately blazed 
forth all along the Virginia frontier. This conflict 
with the Indians, very brief and very bloody, is usu- 
ally called Lord Dunmore's war. The white men 
have told the story, and they admit that the war 
" arose in consequence of cold-blooded murders com- 
mitted upon inoffensive Indians in the region of the 
upper Ohio." 

One of the provocatives to this war was the assas- 
sination by fiend-like white men of the whole family 
of the renowned Indian chief, Logan, in the vicinity 
of the city of Wheeling. Logan had been the friend 
of the white man. But exasperated by these outrages, 
he seized his tomahawk breathing only vengeance. 
General Gibson was sent to one of the Shawanese 
towns to confer with Logan and to detach him frorn 
the conspiracy against the whites. It was on this 
occasion that Logan made that celebrated speech 
whose pathetic eloquence will ever move the human 
heart : 

" I appeal to any white man to say if ever he 
entered Logan's cabin hungry, and I gave him not 
meat ; if ever he came cold or naked and I gave him 
not clothing. During the course of the last long and 
bloody war, Logan remained in his tent, an advocate 
of peace. Nay, such was my love for the wliites, 



INDIAN WARFARE. II3 

that those of my own country pointed at me and said, 
* Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even 
thought to live with you, but for the injuries of one 
man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cool blood 
and unprovoked, cut off all the relatives of Logan, not 
sparing even my women and children. There runs 
not a drop of my blood in the veins of any human 
creature. This called on me for revenge. I have 
killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. 
For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace. 
Yet do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy 
of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on 
his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for 
Logan." 

This war, though it lasted but a few months, was 
very sanguinary. Every exposed point on the ex- 
tensive Virginia frontier was assailed. Cabins were 
burned, harvests were trampled down, cattle driven 
off, and men, women, and children either butchered 
or carried into captivity more dreadful than death. 
The peril was so dreadful that the most extraordinary 
efforts on the part of the Virginian Government were 
requisite to meet it. An army of three thousand men 
was raised in the utmost haste. This force was in 
two divisions. One of eleven hundred men rendez- 
voused in what is now Green Briar county, and marched 
down the valley of the Great Kanawha, to its en* 



114 DANIEL BOONE. 

trance into the Ohio, at a place now named Point 

Pleasant. 

Lord Dunmore with the remaining nineteen hundred 
crossed the Cumberland mountains to Wheeling, and 
thence descended the Ohio in boats, to form a junction 
with the other party at the mouth of the Great 
Kanawha. Thence united, they were to march across 
the country about forty miles due west, to the valley 
of the Scioto. The banks of this lovely stream were 
lined with Indian villages, in a high state of prosperity. 
Corn-fields waved luxuriantly around their humble 
dwellings. They were living at peace with each other, 
and relied far more upon the produce of the soil than 
upon the chase for their support. 

It was the plan of Lord Dunmore to sweep this 
whole region with utter desolation, and entirely to 
exterminate the Indians. But the savages did not 
await his arrival in their own homes. Many of them 
had obtained guns and ammunition from the French 
in Canada, with whom they lived on friendly terms. 

In a well-ordered army for Indian warfare, whose 
numbers cannot now with certainty be known, they 
crossed the Ohio, below the mouth of the Great 
Kanawha, and marching through the forest, in the rear 
of the hills, fell by surprise very impetuously upon the 
rear of the encampment at Point Pleasant. The Indians 
seemed to be fully aware that their only safety was 



INDIAN WARFARE. II J 

in the energies of desperation. One of the most bloody 
battles was then fought, which ever occurred in Indian 
warfare. Though the Virginians with far more potent 
weapons repelled their assailants, they paid dearly 
for their victory. Two hundred and fifteen of the 
Virginians fell dead or severely wounded beneath the 
bullets or arrows of their foes. The loss which the 
savages incurred could never be ascertained with accu- 
racy. It was generally believed that several hundred 
of their warriors were struck down on that bloody- 
field. 

The whites, accustomed to Indian warfare and 
skilled in the use of the rifle, scarcely fired a shot 
which did not reach its mark. In the cautious war- 
fare between the tribes, fighting with arrows from 
behind trees, the loss of fifteen or twenty warriors 
was deemed a great calamity. Now, to find hun- 
dreds of their braves weltering in blood, was awful 
beyond precedent, and gave them new ideas of the 
prowess of the white man. In this conflict the In- 
dians manifested a very considerable degree of mili- 
tary ability. Having constructed a breastwork of 
logs, behind which they could retreat in case of a re- 
pulse, they formed in a long line extending across 
the point from the Kanawha to the Ohio. Then 
they advanced in the impetuous attack through the 
forest, protected by logs, and stumps, and trees. Had 



Il6 DANIEL BOONE. 

they succeeded in their assault, thtre would have 
been no possible escape for the Virginian troops, 
They must have been annihilated. 

The Indians had assembled on that field nearly all 
the warriors of four powerful tribes ; the Shawnee,, 
Delaware, Mingo and Wyandotts. After the repulse, 
panic-stricken, they fled through the wilderness, un- 
able to make any other stand against their foes. 
Lord Dunmore, with his triumphant army flushed 
with victory and maddened by its serious loss, 
marched rapidly down the left bank of the Ohio, 
and then crossed into the valley of the Scioto to 
sweep it with flame. We have no account of the de- 
tails of this cruel expedition, but the following graphic 
description of a similar excursion into the land be- 
longing to the Cherokees, will give one a vivid ideu 
of the nature of these conflicts. 

The celebrated Francis Marion, who was an officer 
in the campaign, and an eye-witness of the scenes 
which he describes, gives the following narrative of 
the events which ensued : 

** Now commenced a scene of devastation scarcely 
paralleled in the annals of this continent. For thirty 
days the army employed themselves in burning and 
ravaging the settlements of the broken-spirited In- 
dians. No less than fourteen of their towns were 
laid in ashes; their granaries were yielded to tli^ 



INDIAN WARFARE. II 7 

flames, their corn-fields ravaged, while the miserable 
fugitives, flying from the sword, took refuge with 
their starving families among the mountains. As the 
lands were rich and the season had been favorable, 
the corn was bending under the double weight of 
lusty roasting ears and pods and clustering beans. 
The furrows seemed to rejoice under their precious 
loads. The fields stood thick with bread. We en- 
camped the first night in the woods near the fields 
where the whole army feasted on the young corn, 
which, with fat venison, made a most delicious treat 
The next morning, by order of Col. Grant, we pro- 
ceeded to burn down the Indian cabins. 

" Some of our men seemed to enjoy this cruel work, 
laughing very heartily at the curling flames as they 
mounted loud crackling over the tops of the huts. 
But to me it appeared a shocking sight. * Poor crea- 
tures!* thought I, *we surely need not grudge you 
such miserable habitations.' But when we came ac- 
cording to orders to cut down the fields of corn, I 
could scarcely refrain from tears : for who could see 
the stalks that stood so stately, with broad green 
leaves and gaily tasseled shocks, filled with the sweet 
milky flour, the staff of life, — ^who, I say, could see 
without grief these sacred plants sinking under our 
swords with all their precious load, to wither and rot 
untasted in the fields. 



Il8 DANIEL BOONE. 

"I saw everywhere around the footsteps of little 
Indian children, where they had lately played under 
shelter of the rustling corn. No doubt they had often 
looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, and were 
gladdened when they thought of the abundant cakes 
for the coming winter. 'When we are gone/ thought 
I, * they will return, and peeping through the weeds, 
with tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin poured 
over their homes and the happy fields where they 
had so often played.'" 

Such was life among the comparatively intelligent 
tribes in the beautiful and fertile valley of the Scioto. 
Such »vas the scene of devastation, or of "punishing 
the Indians," as it was called, upon which Lord Dun- 
more's army entered, intending to sweep the valley 
with fire and sword from its opening at the Ohio to 
Its head waters leagues away in the North. 

In this campaign the Indians, while with much 
sagacity they combined their main force to encounter 
the army under Lord Dunmore, detached separate 
bands of picked warriors to assail the settlements on 
the frontier at every exposed point. These bands of 
painted savages, emerging from the solitudes of the 
forests at midnight, would fall with hideous yells upon 
the lone cabin of the settler, or upon a little cluster of 
log huts, and in a few hours nothing wo Mid be left 
but smouldering ruins and gory corpses. 



INDIAN WARFARE. 1 19 

To Daniel Boone, who had manifested wonderful 
skill in baffling all the stratagems of Indian warfare, 
was assigned the difficult and infinitely important task 
of protecting these frontiers. Three garrisons were 
placed under his command, o\'er which he exercised 
supreme control. He located them at the most avail- 
able points ; noiselessly passed from one to the other 
to see that they were fortified according to the most 
approved principles of military engineering then 
known in the forest. His scouts were everywhere, to 
give prompt notice of any approach of hostile bands. 
Thus this quiet, silent man, with great efficiency, ful- 
filled his mission to universal satisfaction. Without 
seeking fame, without thinking even of such a reward 
for his services, his sagacity and his virtues were rap- 
idly giving him a very enviable reputation through- 
out all those regions. 

The discomfited Indians had become thoroughly 
disheartened, and sent couriers to Lord Dunmore im- 
ploring peace. Comstock, their chief, seems to have 
been a man not only of strong native powers of mind, 
but of unusual intelligence. With quite a brilliant 
retinue of his warriors, he met Lord Dunmore in 
council at a point in the valley of the Scioto, about 
four miles south of the present city of Circleville. 
Comstock himself opened the deliberations with a 
speech of great dignity and argumentative power. In 



120 DANIEL BOONE. 

a loud voice, which was heard, as he intended, by all 
in the camp, he portrayed the former prosperous con- 
dition of the Indian tribes, powerful in numbers and 
abounding in wealth, in the enjoyment of their rich 
corn-fields, and their forests filled with game. With 
this he contrasted very forcibly their present wretched 
condition, with diminished numbers, and with the 
loss of their hunting grounds. He reproached the 
whites with the violation of their treaty obligations, 
and declared that the Indians had been forbearing in 
the extreme under the wrongs which had been in- 
flicted upon them. 

"We know," said he, "perfectly well, our weakness 
when compared with the English. The Indians de- 
sire only justice. The war was not sought by us, but 
was forced upon us. It was commened by the whites. 
We should have merited the contempt of every white 
man could we have tamely submitted to the murders 
which have been inflicted upon our unoffending people 
at the hands of the white men." 

The power was with Lord Dunmore. In the treaty 
of peace he exacted terms which, though verj' hard for 
the Indians, were perhaps not more than he had a 
right to require. The Indians surrendered four of 
their principal warriors as hostages for the faithful 
observance of the treaty. They relinquished all 
claims whatevei to the vast hunting grounds whicl) 



INDIAN WARFARE. 121 

their bands from time immemorial had ranged south 
of the Ohio river. This was an immense concession. 
Lord Danmore returned across the mountains well 
satisfied with his campaign, though his soldiers were 
excited almost to mutiny in not being permitted to 
wreak their vengeance upon the unhappy savages. 

And here let it be remarked, that deeply wronged 
as these Indians unquestionably were, there was not 
a little excuse for the exasperation of the whites. 
Fiends incarnate could not have invented more 
terrible tortures than they often inflicted upon their 
captives. We have no heart to describe these scenes. 
They are too awful to be contemplated. In view of 
the horrid barbarity thus practised, it is not strange 
that the English should have wished to shoot down 
the whole race, men, women, and children, as they 
would exterminate wolves or bears. 

This campaign being thus successfully terminated, 

Daniel Boone returned to his humble cabin on the 

Clinch River. Here he had a small and fertile farm, 

which his energetic family had successfully cultivated 

during the summer, and he spent the winter months 

in his favorite occupation of hunting in the forests 

around. His thoughtful mind, during these long and 

solitary rambles, was undoubtedly occupied with plans 

for the future. Emigration to his beautiful Kentucky 

was still his engrossing thought. 
11 



122 DANIEL BOONE. 

It is not wonderful that a man of such fearless 
temperament, and a natural turn of mind so poetic 
and imaginative, should have been charmed beyond 
expression by a realm whose attractions he had so 
fully experienced. That the glowing descriptions of 
Boone and Finley were not exaggerated, is manifest 
from the equally rapturous account of others who 
now began to explore this favored land. Imlay writes 
of that region : 

" Everything here assumes a dignity and splendor 
I have never seen in any other part of the world. You 
ascend a considerable distance from the shores of the 
Ohio, and when you would suppose you had arrived 
at the summit of a mountain, you find yourself upon 
an extensive level. Here an eternal verdure reigns, 
and the brilliant sun of latitude 39 degrees, piercing 
through the azure heavens, produces in this prolific 
soil an early maturity which is truly astonishing. 
Flowers full and perfect, as if they had been cultivated 
by the hand of a florist, with all their captivating 
odors, and with all the variegated charms which color 
and nature can produce, here in the lap of elegance 
and beauty, decorate the smiling groves. Soft zephyrs 
gently breathe on sweets, and the inhaled air gives a 
glow of health and vigor that seems to ravish the 
intoxicated senses." 

The Virginian government now resolved to pour a 



INDIAN WARFARE. 12 J 

tide of emigration into these as yet unexplored realms, 
south of the Ohio. Four hundred acres of land were 
offered to every individual who would build a cabin, 
clear a lot of land, and raise a crop of corn. This 
was called a settlement right It was not stated how 
large the clearing should be, or how extensive the 
corn-field. Several settlements were thus begun in 
Kentucky, when there was a new and extraordinary 
movement which attracted universal attention. 

A very remarkable man, named Richard Hender- 
son, appeared in North Carolina. Emerging from the 
humblest walks of life, and unable even to read until 
he had obtained maturity, he developed powers of 
conversational eloquence and administrative ability of 
the highest order. 

The Cherokee Indians claimed the whole country 
bounded by the Kentucky, the Ohio, and the Cumber- 
land rivers, and we know not how much more territory 
extending indefinitely to the South and West. Colonel 
Henderson formed an association called the Transyl- 
vania Company. Making a secret journey to the 
Cherokee country, he met twelve hundred chiefs in 
council, and purchased of them the whole territory, 
equal to some European kingdoms, bounded by the 
above mentioned rivers. For this realm he paid the 
insignificant sum of ten wagon loads of cheap goods, 
with a few fire-arms and some spirituous liquors. 



124 DANIEL BOONE. 

Mr. Henderson, to whom the rest of the company 
seemed to have delegated all their powers, now 
assumed the position of proprietor, governor, and 
legislator of his magnificent domain, which he called 
Transylvania. It seems that Boone accompanied 
Colonel Henderson to the council of the Cherokee 
chieftains which was held at Wataga, the southern 
branch of the Holston River. Boone had explored 
nearly the whole of this region, and it was upon his 
testimony that the company relied in endeavoring to 
purchase these rich and fertile lands. Indeed, as we 
have before intimated, it has been said that Boone in 
his wonderful and perilous explorations was the 
agent of this secret company. 

No treaties with the Indians were sure of geneial 
acquiescence. There were always discontented chief- 
tains ; there were almost always conflicting claims of 
hostile tribes ; there were always wandering tribes of 
hunters and of warriors, who, exasperated by the 
treatment which they had received from vagabond 
white men, were ever ready to wreak their vengeance 
upon any band of emigrants they might encounter. 

Colonel Henderson's treaty was made in the 
month of March, 1775. With characteristic vigor, he 
immediately made preparations for the settlement of 
the kingdom of which he was the proud monarch. 
The first thing to be done was to mark out a feasible 
path throi\gh which emigrants might pass, without 



INDIAN WARFARE. 125 

losing their way, over the mountains and through the 
wilderness, to the heart of this new Eden. Of all the 
men in the world, Daniel Boone was the one to map 
out this route of five hundred miles. He took with 
him a company of road-makers, and in a few months 
opened a path which could be traversed by pack- 
horses, and even by wagons to a place called Boones- 
ville on the Kentucky river, within about thirty miles 
of the present site of Lexington. 

The Indian hunters and warriors, notwithstanding 
the treaties into which the chieftains of the North and 
the South had entered, watched the construction of this 
road with great solicitude. They knew full well that 
it would ere long secure their expulsion from their 
ancient hunting grounds. Though no general warfare 
was organized by the tribes, it was necessary to be 
constantly on the watch against lawless bands, who 
were determined to harass the pioneers in every 
possible way. In the following letter Boone com- 
municated to Colonel Henderson the hostility which 
they had, perhaps unexpectedly, encountered. It was 
dated the first of April, and was sent back by a 
courier through the woods : 

" Dear Colonel, — 

"After my compliments to you, I shall acquaint 
you with my misfortunes. On March the Twenty 



126 DANIEL BOONE. 

fifth, a party of Indians fired on my company about 
half an hour before day, and killed Mr. Twitty and 
his negro, and wounded Mr. Walker very deeply ; but 
J hope he will recover. On March the Twenty-eighth, 
as we were hunting for provisions, we found Samuel 
Tale's son who gave us an account that the Indians 
fired on their camp on the twenty-seventh day. My 
brother and I went down and found two men killed 
and scalped, Thomas McDowell and Jeremiah Mc- 
Peters. I have sent a man down to all the lower 
companies, in order to gather them all to the mouth 
of the Otter Creek. My advice to you, sir, is to come 
or send as soon as possible. Your company is desired 
greatly, for the people are very uneasy, but are 
willing to stay and venture their lives with you. And 
now is the time to frustrate their (the Indians) inten- 
tions, and keep the country while we are in it. If we 
give way to them now, it will ever be the case. This 
day we start from the battle ground to the mouth of 
Otter Creek, where we shall immediately erect a fort, 
which will be done before you can come or send. 
Then we can send ten men to meet you, if you send 
for them. 

" I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, 

"Daniel Boone." 
Boone immediately commenced upon the left bank 
of the Kentucky river, which here ran in a westerly 



INDIAN WARFARE. 12/ 

direction, the erection of a fort. Their position was 
full of peril, for the road-makers were but few in 
number, and Indian warriors to the number of many 
hundreds might at any time encircle them. Many of 
these Indians had also obtained muskets from the 
French in Canada, and had become practiced marks^ 
men. Nearly three months were busily occupied 
in the construction of this important fort. Fortunately 
we have a minute description of its structure, and a 
sketch of its appearance, either from the pencil of 
Colonel Henderson, or of some one in his employ. 

The fort or fortress consisted of a series of strong 
log huts, enclosing a large interior or square. The 
parallelogram was about two hundred and sixty feet 
in length and one hundred and fifty in breadth. These 
cabins, built of logs, were bullet-proof. The intervals 
between them were filled with stout pieces of timber, 
about twelve feet high, planted firmly in the ground, 
in close contact with each other, and sharpened at the 
top. The fort was built close to the river, with one 
of its angles almost overhanging the water, so that an 
abundant supply could be obtained without peril 
Each of the corner houses projected a little, so that 
from the port-holes any Indian could be shot who 
should approach the walls with ladder or hatchet 
This really artistic structure was not completed until 
the fourteenth day Oi June. The Indians from a di9" 



f28 DANIEL BOONE. 

tance watched its progress with dismay. They made 
one attack, but were easily repelled, though they 
succeeded in shooting one of the emigrants. 

Daniel Boone contemplated the fortress on its com- 
pletion with much satisfaction. He was fully assured 
that behind its walls and palisades bold hearts, with 
an ample supply of ammunition, could repel any as- 
saults which the Indians were capable of making. He 
now resolved immediately to return to Clinch river, 
and bring his family out to share with him his new 
and attractive home. 



-y^^^ 

^ms 




CHAPTER VI. 

Sufferings of the Pioneers, 

Emigration to Boonesborough — New Perils. — Transylvania Com* 
pany. — Beneficence of its Laws. — Interesting Incident. — Infa* 
mous conduct of Great Britain. — Attack on the Fort. — Beia« 
forcements. — Simon Kenton and his Sufferings. — Mrs. Harvey. 

The fortress at Boonesborough consisted of ten 
strong log huts arranged in a quadrangular form, en- 
closing an area of about one-third of an acre. The 
intervals, as before stated, between the huts, were 
filled with strong palisades of timber, which, like the 
huts themselves, were bullet-proof The outer sides 
of th^ cabins, together with the palisades, formed the 
sides of the fort exposed to the foe. Each of these 
cabins was about twenty feet in length and twelve or 
fifteen in breadth. There were two entrance gates 
opposite each other, made of thick slabs of timber, 
and hung on wooden hinges. The forest, which was 
quite dense, had been cut away to such a distance as 
to expose an assailing party to the bullets of the gar- 
rison. As at that time the Indians were armed mainly 
with bows and arrows, a few men fully supplied with 
ammunition within the fort could bid defiance to 

(129) 



130 DANIEL BOONE. 

almost any number of savages. And subsequently, 
as the Indians obtained fire-arms, they could not hope 
to capture the fort without a long siege, or by assail- 
ing it with a vastly overwhelming superiority of 
numbers. The accompanying illustration will give 
the reader a very correct idea of this renowned for- 
tress of logs, which was regarded as the Gibraltar of 
Indian warfare. 

Having finished this fort Daniel Boone, leaving a 
sufficient garrison for its security, set out for his home 
on the Clinch river to bring his wife and family to the 
beautiful land he so long had coveted for their resi- 
dence. It seems that his wife and daughters were 
eager to follow their father to the banks of the Ken- 
tucky, whose charms he had so glowingly described 
to them. Several other families were also induced to 
join the party of emigration. They could dwell to- 
gether in a very social community and in perfect 
safety in the spacious cabins within the fortress. The 
river would furnish them with an unfailing supply of 
water. The hunters, with their rifles, could supply 
them with game, and with those rifles could protect 
themselves while laboring in the fields, which with 
the axe they had laid open to the sun around the fort. 
The hunters and the farmers at night returning within 
the enclosure, felt perfectly safe from all assaults. 

Daniel Boone commenced his journey with his 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 131 

Wife and children, and others who joined them, back to 
Boonesborough in high spirits. It was a long journey 
of several hundred miles, and to many persons it would 
seem a journey fraught with great peril, for they were in 
danger almost every mile of the way, of encountering 
hostile Indians. But Boone, accustomed to traversing 
the wilderness, and accompanied by well armed men, 
felt no more apprehensions of danger than the father 
of a family would at the present day in traveling by 
cars from Massachusetts to Pennsylvania. 

It was beautiful autumnal weather when the party of 
pioneers commenced its adventurous tour through the 
wilderness, to find a new home five hundred miles be- 
yond even the remotest frontiers of civilization. There 
were three families besides that of Boone, and 
numbered in all twenty-six men, four women, and 
four or five boys and girls of various ages. Daniel 
Boone was the happy leader of this heroic little band. 

In due time they all arrived safely at Boonesborough 
" without having encountered," as Boone writes, " any 
other difficulties than such as are common to this 
passage." As they approached the fort, Boone and 
his family, for some unexplained reason, pressed 
forward, and entered the fortress a few days in advance 
of the rest of the party. Perhaps Boone himself had 
a little pride to have it said, that Mrs. Boone and her 
daughter were the first of her color and sex that 



iji DANIEL BOONE. 

ever stood upon the banks of the wild and beautiful 

Kentucky. 

A few days after their arrival, the emigrants had a 
very solemn admonitioA of the peril which surrounded 
them, and of the necessity of constant vigilance to 
guard against a treacherous and sleepless foe. One of 
their number who had sauntered but a short distance 
from the fort, lured by the combined beauty of the 
field, the forest and the river, was shot by a prowling 
Indian, who, raising the war-whoop of exultation and 
defiance, immediately disappeared in the depths of 
the wilderness. 

Colonel Henderson and his partners, anxious to 
promote the settlement of the country, by organising 
parties of emigration, were busy in making known 
through the settlements the absolute security of the 
fort at Boonesborough, and the wonderful attractions 
of the region, in soil, climate, and abounding game. 
Henderson himself soon started with a large party, 
forty of whom were well armed. A number of pack' 
horses conveyed the luggage of the emigrants. 
Following the very imperfect road that Boone with 
much skill had engineered, which was quite tolerable 
for pack-horses in single file, they reached Booncs« 
borough early in the following spring. 

The Transylvania Company was in the full flush of 
Bua:essful experiment Small parties of emigrants 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 133 

were constantly arriving. Boonesboroiigh was the 
capital of the colony. Various small settlements 
were settled in its vicinity. Colonel Henderson 
opened a land office there, and over half a million of 
acres were entered, by settlers or speculators. These 
men did not purchase the lands outright, but bound 
themselves to pay a small but perpetual rent. The 
titles, which they supposed to be perfectly good, were 
given in the name of the " proprietors of the Colony 
of Transylvania, in America." 

Soon four settlements were organised called 
Boonesborough, Harrodsburg, Boiling Spring, and 
St. Asaph. Colonel Henderson, on the twenty-third 
of May, I775> ^s president or rather sovereign of this 
extraordinary realm, summoned a legislature consist- 
ing of delegates from this handful of pioneers, to meet 
at his capital, Boonesborough. Henderson presided, 
Daniel and his brother Squire were delegates from 
Boonesborough. A clergyman, the Reveiend John 
Leythe, opened the session with prayer. Colonel 
Henderson made a remarkable and admirable speech. 
This extraordinary legislature represented only a 
constituency of one hundred and fifty souls. But the 
Colonel presented to them very clearly the true re- 
publican principle of government. He declared that 
the only legitimate source of political power is to be 

found in the will of the people, and added : 
12 



134 DANIEL BOONE. 

" If any doubts remain among you with respect to 
the force and efficiency of whatever laws you now or 
hereafter make, be pleased to consider that all power 
is originally in the people. Make it their interest, 
therefore, by impartial and beneficent laws, and you 
may be sure of their inclination to see them enforced." 

Rumors of these extraordinary proceedings reached 
the ears of Lord Dunmore. He considered the whole 
region of Kentucky as included in the original grant 
of Virginia, and that the Government of Virginia alone 
had the right to extinguish the Indian title to any of 
those lands. He therefore issued a proclamation, de- 
nouncing in the severest terms the " unlawful pro- 
ceedings of one Richard Henderson and other disor- 
derly persons, his associates." The legislature 
continued in session but three days, and honored itself 
greatly by its energetic action, and by the character of 
the laws which it inaugurated. One bill was intro- 
duced for preserving game ; another for improving 
the breed of their horses ; and it is worthy of especial 
record that a law was passed prohibiting profane 
swearing and Sabbath breaking. 

The moral sense of these bold pioneers was shocked 
^t the desecration of the Creator's name among their 
sublime solitudes. 

The controversy between the Transylvania Com- 
pany and the Government of Virginia was short but 



SUFFERINGS JF THE PIONEERS. 1 35 

very sharp. Virginia could then very easily send an 
army of several thousand men to exterminate the 
Kentucky colony. A compromise was the result. 
The title of Henderson was declared " null and void." 
But he received in compensation a grant of land on 
the Ohio, about twelve miles square, below the mouth 
of Green River. Virginia assumed that the Indian 
title was entirely extinguished, and the region called 
Transylvania now belonged without encumbrance to 
the Old Dominion. 

Still the tide of emigration continued to flow into 
this beautiful region. Among others came the family 
of Colonel Calloway, consisting of his wife and two 
daughters. For a long time no Indians had been seen 
in the vicinity of Boonesborough. No one seemed to 
apprehend the least danger from them, and the people 
in the fort wandered about as freely as if no foe had 
ever excited their fears. An accident occurred which 
sent a tremor of dismay through the whole colony, and 
which we will describe as related to the intelligent 
historian, Peck, from the lips of one of the parties, 
who experienced all the terrors of the scene : 

"On the fourteenth of July, 1776, Betsey Calloway, 
her sister Frances, and Jemima Boone, a daughter of 
Daniel Boone, the two last about fourteen years of 
age, carelessly crossed the river opposite Boones- 
borough in a canoe, at a late hour in the afteroooa 



136 DANIEL BOONE. 

The trees and shrubs on the opposite bank were thick 
and came down to the water's edge. The girls, uncon- 
scious of danger, were playing and splashing the 
water with their paddles, until the canoe floating with 
the current, drifted near the shore. Five stout Indians 
lay there concealed, one of whom, noiseless and 
stealthy as the serpent, crawled down the bank until 
he reached the rope that hung from the bow, turned 
its course up the stream, and in a direction to be 
hidden from the view of the fort. The loud shrieks 
of the captured girls were heard, but too late for their 
rescue. 

" The canoe, their only means of crossing, was on 
the opposite shore, and none dared to risk the chance of 
swimming the river, under the impression that a large 
body of savages was concealed in the woods. Boone 
and Calloway were both absent, and night came on 
before arrangements could be made for their pursuit. 
Next morning by daylight we were on the track, and 
found they had prevented our following them by 
walking some distance apart through the thickest 
canes they could find. We observed their course, and 
on which side they had left their sign and traveled 
upwards of thirty miles. We then imagined they 
would be less cautious in traveling, and made a turn 
in order to cross their trace, and had gone but a few 
miles when we found their tracks in a buffalo patlu 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 137 

We pursued and overtook them on going about ten 
miles, as they were kindhng a fire to cook. 

^' Our study had been more to get the prisoners 
without giving the Indians time to murder them, aftet 
they discovered us, than to kill them. We discovered 
each other nearly at the same time. Four of us fired, 
and all of us rushed on them, which prevented them 
from carrying away anything, except one shot-gun 
without ammunition. Mr. Boone and myself had a 
pretty fair shoot, just as they began to move off. I 
am well convinced I shot one through, and the one he 
shot dropped his gun. Mine had none. The place 
was very thick with canes, and being so much elated 
on recovering the three broken-hearted girls, prevent- 
ed our making further search. We sent them off with- 
out their mocassins, and not one of them with so much 
as a knife or a tomahawk." 

The Indians seemed to awake increasingly to the 
consciousness that the empire of the white man in 
their country could only exist upon the ruins of their 
own. They divided themselves into several parties, 
making incessant attacks upon the forts, and prowling 
around to shoot every white man who could be found 
within reach of their bullets. They avoided all open 
warfare, and fought only when they could spring from 
an ambush, or when protected by a stump, a rock, or 
a tree. An Indian would conceal himself in the night 



138 DANIEL BOONK 

behind a stump, shoot the first one ^ho emerged from 
the fort in the morning, and then with a yell disappear 
in the recesses of the forest. The cattle could scarcely 
appear for an hour to graze beyond the protection of 
the fort, without danger of being struck down by the 
bullet of an unseen foe. 

The war of the American Revolution was just 
commencing. Dreadfully it added to the perils of 
these distant emigrants. The British Government, 
with infamy which can never be effaced from her 
records, called in to her aid the tomahawk and the 
scalping knife of the savage. The Indian alone in 
his wild and merciless barbarity, was terrible enough. 
But when he appeared as the ally of a powerful 
nation, guided in his operations by the wisdom of her 
officers, and well provided with guns, powder, and 
bullets from inexhaustible resources, the settler had 
indeed reason to tremble. The winter of 1776 and 
1777 was gloomy beyond expression. The Indians 
were hourly becoming more bold. Their predatory 
bands were wandering in all directions, and almost 
every day came fraught with tidings of outrage or 
massacre. 

The whole military force of the colony was but 
about one hundred men. Three hundred of the 
pioneers, dismayed by the cloud of menace, every 
hout growing blacker, had returned across the moun* 



SUFPERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 1 39 

lains. There were but twenty-two armed men left 
in the fort at Boonesborough. The dismal winter 
passed slowly away, and the spring opened replete 
with nature's bloom and beauty, but darkened by the 
depravity of man. On the fifteenth of April, a band 
of a hundred howling Indians appeared in the forest 
before Boonesborough. With far more than their 
ordinary audacity, they rushed from their covert upon 
the fort. Had they been acquainted with the use ol 
scaling ladders, by attacking at different points, they 
might easily, by their superior numbers, have carried 
the place by storm. 

But fortunately the savages had but little military 
science, and when once repulsed, would usually re- 
treat in dismay. The garrison, behind their impene- 
trable logs, took deliberate aim, and every bullet 
killed or wounded some Indian warrior. The sav- 
ages fought with great bravery, and succeeded in 
killing one man in the garrison. Dismayed by the 
slaughter which they were encountering, they fled, 
taking their dead and wounded with them. But so 
fully were they conscious, that would they retain 
their own supremacy in the wilderness, they must ex- 
terminate the white man, that their retreat was only 
in preparation for a return with accumulated numbers* 

An intelligent historian writes : 

•* Daniel Boone appears before us in these exciting 



140 DANIEL BOONE. 

times the central figure towering like a colossus amid 
that hardy band of pioneers who opposed their 
breasts to the shock of the struggle which gave a 
terrible significance and a crimson hue to the history 
of the old dark and bloody ground." 

The Indians were scattered everywhere in desper- 
ate bands. Forty men were sent from North Caro- 
lina and a hundred from Virginia, under Colonel 
Bowman, to strengthen the feeble settlements. The 
latter party arrived on the twentieth of August, 1776. 
There were at that time skirmishes with the Indians 
almost every day. The pioneers within their log- 
houses, or behind their palissades, generally repelled 
these assaults with but little loss to themselves and 
not often inflicting severe injury to the wary savages. 
In the midst of these constant conflicts and dangers, 
the winter months passed drearily away. Boones- 
borough was constantly menaced and frequently 
attacked. In a diary kept within the fort we find ; 

** May 2j. — A large party of Indians attacked 
Boonesborough fort. Kept a warm fire till eleven 
o'clock at night. Began it next morning, and kept a 
warm fire till midnight. Attempting several times to 
burn the fort. Three of our men were wounded, but 
not mortally. 

** May 26. — A party went out to hunt Indiana 
One wounded Squire Boone, and escaped." 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. I41 

Very cruel warfare was now being waged by the 
majestic power of Great Britain to bring the revolted 
colonies back to subjection to their laws. As we 
have mentioned they called into requisition on their 
side the merciless energies of the savage, openly de- 
claring to the world that they were justified in making 
use of whatever weapons God and nature might place 
in their hands. From the strong British garrisons at 
Detroit, Vincennes and Kaskaskia, the Indians were 
abundantly supplied with rifles, powder and bullets, 
and were offered liberal rewards for such prisoners, 
and even scalps, as they might bring in. 

The danger which threatened these settlements in 
Kentucky was now such as might cause the stoutest 
heart to quail. The savage had been adopted as an 
ally by the most wealthy and powerful nation upon 
the globe. His marauding bands were often guided 
by the intelligence of British officers. Boone organ- 
ized what might be called a corps of explorers to go 
out two and two, penetrating the wilderness with ex- 
treme caution, in all directions, to detect any indica- 
tion of the approach of the Indians. One of these 
explorers, Simon Kenton, acting under the sagacious 
counsel of Colonel Boone, had obtained great and 
deserved celebrity as among the most heroic 01 the 
remarkable men who laid the foundation of the State 
of Kentucky. It would be difficult to find in any 



142 DANIEL BOONE, 

pages of romance incidents of more wonderful adven- 
ture, or of more dreadful suffering, or stories of more 
miraculous escape, than were experienced by this 
man. Several times he was taken captive by the 
Indians, and though treated with great inhumanity, 
succeeded in making his escape. The -following inci- 
dent in his life, occurring about this time, gives one a 
very vivid picture of the nature of this warfare with 
the Indians : 

"Colonel Bowman sent Simon Kenton with two 
other men, Montgomery and Clark, on an exploring 
tour. Approaching an Indian town" very cautiously 
in the night, on the north side of the Ohio river, they 
found a number of Indian horses in an enclosure. A 
horse in the wilderness was one of the most valuable 
of prizes. They accordingly each mounted an animal, 
and not daring to leave any behind, which would aid 
the Indians to pursue them, by hastily constructed 
halters they led the rest. The noise which the horses 
made awoke the Indians, and the whole village was 
at once in a state of uproar. The mounted adven- 
turers dashed through the woods and were soon be- 
yond the reach of the shouts and the yells which they 
left behind them. They knew, however, full well that 
the swift-footed Indian warriors would be immediately 
on their trail. Without a moment's rest they rode all 
night, the next day and the next night, and on the 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 143 

morning of the second day reached the banks of the 
Ohio river. The flood of that majestic stream flowed 
broad and deep before them, and its surface was 
lashed into waves by a very boisterous wind. The 
horses could not swim across in such a gale, but theii 
desire to retain the invaluable animals was so o-reat 
that they resolved to wait upon the banks until sun- 
set, when they expected the wind to abate. Having 
been so well mounted and having such a start of the 
Indians, they did not suppose it possible that their 
pursuers could overtake them before that time. 

Night came, but with it an increase of the fury ot 
the gale, and the stream became utterly impassable. 
Early in the morning Kenton, who was separated 
from his companions, observed three Indians and a 
white man, well mounted, rapidly approaching. Rais- 
ing his rifle, he took steady aim at the breast oi the 
foremost Indian, and pulled the trigger. The powder 
flashed in the pan. Kenton took to his heels, but 
was soon overtaken and captured. The Indians 
seemed greatly exasperated at the loss of their horses. 
One seized him by the hair and shook his head " till 
his teeth rattled." The others scourged him severely 
with their ramrods over the head and face, exclaiming 
at every blow, " Steal Indian hoss, he)^ ! " 

Just then Kenton saw Montgomery coming boldly 
to his assistance. Instantly two Indian rifles were 



144 DANIEL BOONE. 

dischargc."d, and Montgomery fell dead His bloody 
scalp was waved in the face of Kenton, with menaces 
of a similar fate. Clark had sought safety in flight. 
Kenton was thrown upon the ground upon his back, 
Elis neck was fastened by a halter to a sapling ; his 
arms, extented to their full length, were pinioned to 
the earth by stakes ; his feet were fastened in a similar 
manner. A stout stick was passed across his breast, 
and so attached to the earth that he could not move 
his body. All this was done in the most violent and 
cruel manner, accompanied by frequent cuffs, and 
blows, as the maddened Indians called him in the 
broken English which they had acquired, " a tief, a 
boss steal, a rascal," which expressions the Indians 
had learned to intersperse with English oaths. 

In this condition of suffering Kenton remained 
through the day and through the night. The next 
morning the savages having collected their scattered 
horses, put Kenton upon a young colt, tied his hands 
behind him and his feet beneath the horse's belly, and 
set out on their return. The country was rough and 
Kenton could not at all protect himself from the 
brambles through which they passed. Thus they rode 
all day. When night came, their prisoner was bound 
to the earth as before. The next day they reached 
the Indian village, which was called Chilicothe, on the 
Miami river, forty or fifty miles west of the present 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. 14$ 

cSiy of Chilicothe, Ohio. A courier was sent forward, 
to inform the village of their arrival. Every man« 
woman and child came running out, to view thtf 
prisoner. One of their chiefs. Blackfish, approached 
Kenton with a strong hickory switch in his hand, alid 
addressing him said, 

" You have been stealing our horses, have you ? " 

** Yes," was the defiant reply. 

" Did Colonel Boone," inquired the chief, " tell you 
to steal our horses ? " 

" No," said Kenton, " I did it of my own accord.** 

Blackfish then with brawny arms so merc'ilessly 
applied the scourge to the bare head and shoulders of 
his prisoner, as to cause the blood to flow freely, and 
to occasion the acutest pain. 

In the mean time the whole crowd of men, women 
and children danced and hooted and clapped their 
hands, assailing him with the choicest epithets of 
Indian vituperation. With lou(d cries they demanded 
that he should be tied to the stake, that they might 
all enjoy the pleasure of tormenting him. A stake 
was immediately planted in the ground, and he was 
firmly fastened to it. His entire clothing was torn 
from him, mainly by the Indian women. The whole 
party then danced around him until midnight, yelling 
in the most frantic manner, smiting him with theil 
hjinds and lacerating his flesh with their switches. 

18 



146 DANIEL BOONE. 

At midnight they released him from the stake, and 
allowed him some little repose, in preparation for their 
principal amusement in the morning, of having their 
prisoner run the gauntlet. Three hundred Indians of 
all ages and both sexes were assembled for the savage 
festival. The Indians were ranged in two parallel 
lines, about six feet apart, all armed with sticks, hickory 
rods, whips, and other means of inflicting torture. 
Between these lines, for more than half a mile to the 
village, the wretched prisoner was doomed to run for 
his life, exposed to such injury as his tormentors 
could inflict as he passed. If he succeeded in reaching 
the council-house alive, it would prove an asylum to 
him for the present. 

" At a given signal, Kenton started in the perilous 
race ; exerting his utmost strength and activity, he 
passed swiftly along the line, receiving numerous 
blows, stripes, buffets, and wounds, until heapproached 
the town, near which he saw an Indian leisurely 
awaiting his advance, with a drawn knife in his hand, 
intent upon his death. 

" To avoid him, he instantly broke through the line, 
and made his rapid way towards the council-house, 
pursued by the promiscuous crowd, whooping and 
yelling like infernal furies at his heels. Entering the 
town in advance of his pursuers, just as he supposed 
the council-house within his reach, an Indian was per- 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. I47 

ceived leisurely approaching him with his blanket 
wrapped around him ; but suddenly he threw ofif the 
blanket and sprung upon Kenton as he advanced. 
Exhausted with fatigue and wounds, he was thrown 
to the ground, and in a moment he was beset with 
crowds, eager to inflict upon him the kick or blow 
which had been avoided by breaking through the 
line. Here beaten, kicked and scourged, until he was 
nearly lifeless, he was left to die."* 

" A few hours afterwards he was supplied with food 
and water, and was suffered to recuperate for a few 
days, until he was enabled to attend at the council- 
house, and receive the announcement of his final 
doom. It was here decided that he should be made 
a public sacrifice to the vengeance of the nation. The 
Indian town of Wappatomica, upon the present site 
of Zanesville, Ohio, was the appointed place of his 
execution. Being in a state of utter exhaustion his 
escape was deemed impossible, and he was carelessly 
guarded. In despair he attempted it. He was 
promptly recaptured and punished by being taken to 
a neighboring creek where he was dragged through 
mud and water, till life was nearly extinct. Still his 
constitutional vigor triumphed, and he revived. 

Wappatomica was a British trading post Here 



* Macdonald's Sketches 



148 DANIEL BOONE. 

Kenton met an old comrade, Simon Girty, who had 
become a renegade, had joined the Indians, and had 
so adopted their dress and manners as hardly to be 
distinguished from his savage associates. Girty cau- 
tiously endeavored to save the condemned prisoner. 
He represented to the band that it would be of great 
advantage to them to have possession of one so in- 
timately acquainted with all the white settlements and 
their resources. 

A respite was granted. Another council was held. 
The spirit of Indian revenge prevailed. Kenton was 
again doomed to death, to be preceded by the terri- 
ble ordeal of running the gauntlet. 

But a British officer, influenced by the persuasions 
of the Indian chief Logan, the friend of the white 
man, urged upon the Indian chiefs that the British 
officers at Detroit would regard the possession of 
Kenton, with the information he had at his command, 
as a great acquisition, and that they would pay for 
him a ransom of at least one hundred dollars. They 
took him to Detroit ; the ransom was paid, and 
Kenton became the prisoner of the British officers^ 
instead of the savage chieftains. Still he was a 
prisoner, though treated with ordinary humanity, and 
was allowed the liberty of the town. 

There were two other American captives there, 
Captain Nathan Bui lit and Jesse Coffer. Escape 



SUFFERINGS OF THE PIONEERS. I49 

seemed impossible, as it could only be effected through 
a wilderness four hundred miles in extent, crowded 
with wandering Indian bands, where they would be 
imminently exposed to recapture, or to death by 
starvation. 

Simon Kenton was a very handsome man. He won 
the sympathies of a very kind English woman, Mrs. 
Harvey, the wife of one of the traders. She secretly 
obtained for him and his two companions, and con- 
cealed in a hollow tree, powder, lead, moccasins, and 
a quantity of dried beef One dark night, when the 
Indians were engaged in a drunken bout, she met 
Kenton in the garden and handed him three of the best 
rifles, which she had selected from those stacked near 
/he house. The biographer of these events writes : 

" When a woman engages to do an action, she will 
risk limb, life or character, to serve him whom she 
respects or wishes to befriend. How differently the 
same action would be viewed by different per- 
sons ! By Kenton and his friends her conduct waa 
viewed as the benevolent conduct of a good angel ; 
while if the part she played in behalf of Kenton and 
his companions had been known to the commander at 
Detroit, she would have been looked upon as a 
traitress, who merited the scorn and contempt of all 
honest citizens. This night was the last that Kenton 
ever saw or heard of her. 



I50 DANIEL BOONE. 

Our fugitives traveled mostly by night, guided by 
the stars. After passing through a series of wonderful 
adventures, which we have not space here to record, 
on the thirty-third day of their escape, they reached 
the settlement at the Falls of the Ohio, now Louis- 
ville. During the rest of the war, Kenton was a very 
active partisan. He died in the year 1836, over eighty 
years of age, having been for more than a quarter of a 
rentmy an honored member of the Methodist Church, 




CHAPTER VII. 

Lift in the Wilderness^ 

Stewart killed by the Indians Squire Boone returns to the Bettlei 

ments. — Solitary Life of Daniel Boone — Return of Sqiiire Boou&i 
— Extended and Romantic Explorations. — Charms and Perils of 

the Wilderness The Emigrant Party. — The Fatal Ambuscade.— 

Retreat of the Emigrants. — Solitude of the "Wilderness.— Expe- 
dition of Lewis and Clarke. — Extraordinary Adventures oi 
Cotter. 

There were now four hungry men to occupy the 
little camp of our bold adventurers. They do not 
seem to have been conscious of enduring any hard- 
ships. The winter was mild. Their snug tent 
furnished perfect protection from wind and rain. 
With abundant fuel, their camp-fire ever blazed 
brightly. Still it was necessary for them to be diligent 
In hunting, to supply themselves with their daily food. 
Bread, eggs, milk, butter, sugar, and even salt, were 
articles of which they were entirely destitute. 

One day, not long after the arrival of Squire Boone, 
Daniel Boone, with his companion Stewart, was a 
long distance from the camp, hunting. Suddenly 
the terrible war-whoop of the Indians resounded from 
a thicket, and a shower of arrows fell around them, 

(151) 



152 DANIEL BOONE. 

Stewart, pierced by one of these deadly missiles, fell 
mortally wounded. A sturdy savage sprang from the 
ambuscade upon his victim, and with a yell buried a 
tomahawk in his brain. Then, grasping with one 
hand the hair on the top of his head, he made a rapid 
circular cut with his gleaming knife, and tore off the 
acalp, leaving the skull bare. The revolting deed was 
done quicker than it can be described. Shaking the 
bloody trophy in his hand, he gave a whoop of 
exultation which echoed far and wide through the 
solitudes of the forest. 

Boone, swift of foot as the antelope, escaped and 
reached the camp with the sad tidings of the death of 
his companion, and of the presence, in their immediate 
vicinity, of hostile Indians. This so affrighted the 
North Carolinian who had come with Squire Boone, 
that he resolved upon an immediate return to the 
Yadkin. He set out alone, and doubtless perished 
by the way, as he was never heard of again. A 
skeleton, subsequently found in the wilderness, was 
supposed to be the remains of the unfortunate hunter. 
He probably perished through exhaustion, or by the 
arrow or tomahawk of the savage. 

The two brothers, Daniel and Squire, were now 
left entirely alone. 

They selected a favorable spot in a wild ravine 
where they would be the least likely to be discovered 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 153 

by hunting bands, and built for themselves a snug 
and comfortable log-house, in which they would be 
more effectually sheltered from the storms and cold 
of winter, and into which they moved from their open 
camp. Here they remained, two loving brothers of 
congenial tastes, during the months of January, Feb- 
ruary, March and April. Solitary as their life must 
have been probably, every hour brought busy employ- 
ment. Each day's food was to be obtained by the 
rifle. Wood was to be procured for their fire. All 
their clothing, from the cap to the moccasin, was to 
be fashioned by their own hands from the skin of the 
deer, which they had carefully tanned into pliancy 
and softness; and there were to be added to their 
cabin many conveniences which required much in- 
genuity with knife and hatchet for their only tools, 
and with neither nail nor screw for their construction. 
In addition to this they were under the necessity of 
being ever on the alert to discover indications of the 
approach of the Indians. 

The winter passed away, not only undisturbed, but 
evidently very happily. It is remarkable that their 
retreat was not discovered by any of the Indian 
bands, who in pursuit of game were constantly roving 
over those rich hunting grounds. 

As summer's warmth returned, Squire Boone de- 
cided to retrace his steps to the Yadkin, to carry to 



154 DANIEL BOONE. 

his brother's family news of his safety, and to obtain 
much needed supplies of powder and of lead. There 
i& nc satisfactory explanation of the motives which 
;ould have induced Daniel, after the absence of a 
year from his home, to remain alone in that solitary 
cabin. In his autobiography he has assigned no 
reason for the extraordinary decision. One of the 
most judicious of his biographers makes the following 
statement which by no means solves the mystery: 

" When the spring came it was time for another 
movement. The spring came early, and the awaking 
to its foliage seemed like the passing from night to 
the day. The game had reduced their powder and 
lead, and without these there was nc existence to the 
white man. Again Daniel Boone rises to the emer- 
gency. It was necessary that the settlement which 
they had made should be continued and protected, 
and it was the duty in the progress of events that one 
of them should remain to that task. He made the 
selection and chose himself. He had the courage to 
remain alone. And while he felt the keenest desire 
to see his own family, he felt that he had a noble 
purpose to serve and was prepared for it." * 

Daniel Boone, in his quaint autobiography, in the 
following terms alludes to the departure of his 

• Life of Boone, by W. H. Bogart. 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 55 

brother and his own solitary mode of life during the 
three months of his brother's absence : 

"On the first day of May, 1770, my brother re- 
turned home to the settlement by himself for a new 
recruit of horses and ammunition, leaving me by my- 
self without bread, salt or sugar, without company 0/ 
my fellow creatures, or even a horse or dog. I con- 
fess I never before was under greater necessity of 
exercising philosophy and fortitude. A few days I 
passed uncomfortably. The idea of a beloved wife 
and family, and their anxiety on account of my ab- 
sence and exposed situation, made sensible impres- 
sions on my heart. A thousand dreadful apprehen- 
sions presented themselves to my view, and had 
undoubtedly exposed me to melancholy if further 
indulged. 

" One day I took a tour through the country, and 
the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in 
this charming season, expelled every gloomy and 
vexatious thought. Just at the close of the day the 
gentle gales retired, and left the place to the disposal 
of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most 
tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a com- 
manding ridge, and looking around with astonishing 
delight beheld the ample plain, the beauteous tracts 
below. On the other hand I surveyed the famou.s 
river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking the 



IS6 DANIEL BOONE. 

western boundary of Kentucky, with inconcefvable 
grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the mountains 
lift their venerable heads and penetrate the clouds. 

** I kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, 
and feasted on the loin of a buck. The fallen shades 
of night soon overspread the whole hemisphere, and 
the earth seemed to gape after the hovering moisture. 
My roving excursion this day had fatigued my body 
and diverted my imagination. I laid me down to 
sleep, and I woke not until the sun had chased away 
the night. I continued this tour, and in a lew days 
explored a considerable part of the country, each day 
equally pleased as the first. I returned to my old 
camp which was not disturbed in my absence. I did 
not confine my lodging to it, but often reposed in 
thick cane brakes, to avoid the savages, who I believe 
often visited it, but, fortunately for me, in my ab- 
sence. 

" In this situation I was constantly exposed to 
danger and death. How unhappy such a condition 
for a man tormented with fear, which is vain if no 
danger comes ; and if it does, only augments the 
pain ! It was my happiness to be destitute of this 
afflicting passion, with which I had the greatest reason 
to be affected. The prowling wolves diverted my 
nocturnal hours with perpetual bowlings, and the 
various species of animals io this vast forest, in the 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 57 

day-time were continually in my view. Thus I was 
surrounded with plenty in the midst of want. I was 
happy in the midst of dangers and inconveniences. 
In such a diversity it was impossible I should be dis- 
posed to melancholy. No populous city, with all the 
varieties of commerce and stately structures, could 
afford so much pleasure to my mind, as the beauties 
of nature I found here. 

** Thus through an uninterrupted scene of sylvan 
pleasures, I spent the time until the twenty-seventh 
day of July following, when my brother, to my great 
felicity, met me, according to appointment, at our old 
camp." 

Boone was at this time thirty-six years of age. He 
was about five feet ten inches in height, and of re- 
markably vigorous and athletic frame. His Hfe in 
the open air, his perfect temperance, and his freedom 
from all exciting passions, gave him constant health. 
Squire brought back to his brother the gratifying 
news that hfe wife Rebecca was in good health and 
spirits, and cheerfully acquiesced in whatever decision 
her husband might make, in reference to his absence. 
She had full confidence in the soundness of his judg- 
ment, and in his conjugal and parental love. The 
children were all well, and from the farm and the 
forest the wants of the family were fully supplied. 

It appears that Squire Boone had succeeded ifi 

14 



158 DANIEL BOONE. 

bringing one or two horses across the movuntains. The 
abundance of grass kept them in fine condition. Upon 
the backs of these horses, the pioneers could traverse 
the treeless prairies without obstruction, and lai^e 
portions of the forest were as free from underbrush 
as the park of an English nobleman. Invaluable as 
these animals were to the adventurers, they greatly 
increased their perils. They could not easily be con- 
cealed. Their footprints could not be effaced, and 
there was nothing the Indians coveted so greatly as 
a horse. 

The two adventurers now set out on horseback for 
an exploring tour to the south-west. Following a 
line nearly parallel with the Cumberland Range, after 
traversing a magnificent region of beauty and fertility 
for about one hundred and fifty miles, they reached 
the banks of the Cumberland river. This majestic 
stream takes its rise on the western slope of the 
Cumberland mountains. After an exceedingly cir- 
cuitous route of six hundred miles, running far down 
into Tennessee, it turns north-westerly again, a?w:J 
empties its waters into the Ohio, about sixty miles 
above the entrance of that river into the Mississippi, 

It was midsummer. The weather was delightful. 
The forest free from underbrush, attractive as the 
most artificial park, and the smooth sweep of the 
treeless prairie presented before them as enticing a 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 59 

route of travel as the imagination could desire. 
There were of course hardships and privations, which 
would have been regarded as very severe by the 
dwellers in the sealed houses, but none which dis- 
turbed in the slightest degree the equanimity of these 
hardy adventurers. They journeyed very leisurely ; 
seven months being occupied in the tour. Probably 
only a few miles were accomplished each day. With 
soft saddles made of the skin of buffalo, with their 
horses never urged beyond a walk, with bright skies 
above them, and vistas of beauty ever opening before 
them, and luxuriance, bloom and fragrance spread 
everywhere around, their journey seemed replete with 
enjoyment of the purest kind. 

Though it was necessary to practice the extreme of 
caution, to avoid capture by the Indians, our adven- 
turers do not seem to have been annoyed in the slightest 
degree with any painful fears on that account. Each 
morning they carefully scanned the horizon, to see if 
anywhere there could be seen the smoke of the camp* 
fire curling up from the open prairie or from the 
forest. Through the day they were ever on the alert^ 
examining the trails which they occasionally passed, to 
see if there were any fresh foot prints, or other indi- 
cations of the recent presence of their foe. At night, 
before venturing to kindle their own camp-fire, they 
looked cautiously in every direction to see if a gleaiw 



l60 DANIEL BOONE. 

from an Indian encampment could anywhere be 
seen. Thus from the first of August to the ensuing 
month of March, these two bold men traversed, for 
many hundred miles, an unknown country, filled with 
wandering hunting bands of hostile Indians, and yet 
avoided capture or detection. 

If a storm arose, they would rear their cabin in 
some secluded dell, and basking in the warmth of 
their camp-fire wait until the returning sun invited 
them to resume their journey. Or if they came to 
some of nature's favored haunts, where Eden-like 
attractions were spread around them, on the borders 
of the lake, by the banks of the stream, or beneath the 
brow of the mountain, they would tarry for a few 
days, reveling in delights, which they both had the 
taste to appreciate. 

In this way, they very thoroughly explored the 
upper valley of the Cumberland river. For some 
reason not given, they preferred to return north several 
hundred miles to the Kentucky river, as the seat of 
their contemplated settlement. The head waters of 
this stream are near those of the Cumberland. It 
however flows through the very heart of Kentucky, 
till it enters the Ohio river, midway between the 
present cities of Cincinnati and Louisville. It was in 
the month of March that they reached the Kentucky 
river on their return. For some time they wandered 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. lOi 

along its banks searching for the more suitable situ- 
ation for the location of a colony. 

''The exemption of these men," said W. H. 
Bogart, " from assault by the Indians during all this 
long period of seven months, in which, armed and on 
horseback, they seem to have roamed just where they 
chose, is most wonderful. It has something about it 
which seems like a special interposition of Providence, 
beyond the ordinary guardianship over the progress 
of man. On the safety of these men rested the hope 
of a nation. A very distinguished authority has 
declared, that without Boone, the settlements could 
not have been upheld and the conquest of Kentucky 
would have been reserved for the emigrants of the 
nineteenth century." 

Boone having now, after an absence of nearly two 
years, apparently accomplished the great object of 
his mission ; having, after the most careful and exten- 
sive exploration, selected such a spot as he deemed 
most attractive for the future home of his family, 
decided to return to the Yadkin and make prepar- 
ations for their emigration across the mountains. To us 
now, such a movement seems to indicate an almost in- 
sane boldness and recklessness. To take wife and chil- 
dren into a pathless wilderness filled with unfriendly 
savages, five hundred miles from any of the settle- 
ments of civilization would seem to invite death. / 



l62 ' DANIEL BOONE. 

family could not long be concealed. Their discovery 
by the Indians would be almost the certain precursor 
of their destruction. Boone, in his autobiography, 
says in allusion to this hazardous adventure : 

" I returned home to my family with a determi- 
nation to bring them as soon as possible, at the risk of 
my life and fortune, to live in Kentucky, which I 
esteemed a second paradise." 

The two brothers accomplished the journey safely, 
and Daniel Boone found his family, after his long 
absence, in health and prosperity. One would have 
supposed that the charms of home on the banks of 
the Yadkin, where they could dwell in peace, abund- 
ance and safety, would have lured our adventurer 
to rest from his wanderings. And it is probable that 
for a time, he wavered in his resolution. Two 
years elapsed ere he set out for his new home in the 
Far-West. 

There was much to be done in preparation for so 
momentous a movement. He sold his farm on the 
Yadkin and invested the proceeds in such comforts 
as would be available on the banks of the Kentucky. 
Money would be of no value to him there. A path 
had been discovered by which horses could be led 
through the mountains, and thus many articles could 
be transported which could not be taken in packs on 
the back. Several of the neighbors, elated by the 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 163 

description which Boone gave of the paradise he had 
found, were anxious to join his family in their emigra- 
tion. There were also quite a number of young men 
rising here and there, who, lured by the romance of 
the adventure, were eager to accompany the expedi- 
tion. All these events caused delays. The party of 
emigrants became more numerous than Boone at first 
expected. 

It was not until the twenty-fifth of September, 1773, 
that Daniel Boone, his brother Squire, and quite 
a large party of emigrants, probably in all — men, 
women and children — not less than sixty in number, 
commenced their journey across the mountains. There 
were five families and forty pioneers, all well armed, 
who were quite at home amid the trials and priva- 
tions of the wilderness. Four horses, heavily laden, 
led the train throusrh the narrow trails of the forest. 
Then came, in single file, the remainder of the party, 
of all ages and both sexes. It must have been a 
singular spectacle which was presented, as this long 
line wound its way through the valleys and over the 
ridges. 

Squire Boone was quite familiar with the path. It 
was delightful autumnal weather. The days were 
long and calm, and yet not oppressi\ely hot. There 
were no gloved gentlemen or delicate ladies in the 
company. All were hardy men and women, accus- 



164 DANIEL BOONE. 

tomed to endurance. Each day's journey was short 
An hour before the sun disappeared in the west, the 
little village of cabins arose, where some spring gur- 
gled from the cliff, or some sparkling mountain sticam 
rippled before them. In front of each cabin tlie camp 
fire blazed. All was animation and apparent joy, as 
the women prepared the evening meal, and the 
wearied children rested upon their couch of dried 
leaves or fragrant twigs. If a storm arose, they had 
but to remain beneath their shelter until it passed 
away. 

" Traveling," says Madame de Stael, who was ac- 
customed to the most luxurious of European convey- 
ances, " is the most painful of pleasures." Probably 
our travelers on this journey experienced as many 
pleasures and as few pains as often fall to the lot of 
any tourist. The solitary wilderness has its attrac- 
tions as well as the thronged town. 

These bold men armed with their rifles, under such 
an accomplished leader as Daniel Boone, penetrated 
the wilderness with almost the strength of an inva- 
ding army. Upon the open prairie, the superiority of 
their arms would compensate for almost any inferior- 
ity of numbers. Indeed they had little to fear from 
the savages, unless struck suddenly with overwhelm- 
ing numbers leaping upon them from some ambu^. 
Pleasant days came and went, while nothing occurred 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. l6$ 

to interrupt the prosperity of their journey. They 
were approaching the celebrated Cumberland Gap^ 
which seems to be a door that nature has thrown^ 
open for passing through this great mountain barrier,. 
The vigilance they ought to have practiced had been 
in some degree relaxed by their freedom from all 
alarm. The cows had fallen a few miles behind,. 
seven young men were with them, a son of Daniel 
Boone being one of the number. The main party 
was not aware how far the cattle had fallen in the 
rear. 

It is probable that the savages had been following;' 
them for several days, watching for an opportunity to* 
strike, for suddenly, as they were passing through a. 
narrow ravine, the fearful war-whoop resounded from; 
the thickets on both sides, a shower of arrows fell 
upon them, and six of the seven young men were 
instantly struck down by these deadly missiles. One 
only escaped. The attack was so sudden, so unex- 
pected, that the emigrants had scarcely time for one 
discharge of their firearms, ere they were struck with, 
death. The party in advance heard with conster- 
nation the reports of the muskets, and immediately 
returned to the scene of the disaster. But several 
miles intervened. They met the fugitive who had 
escaped, bleeding and almost breathless. 

Hurrying on, an avful spectacle met their view. 



1 66 DANIEL BOONE. 

The bodies of six of the young men lay in the path, 

in angled and gory, with their scalps torn from their 
"heads : the cattle were driven into the forest beyond 
pursuit. One of these victims was the eldest son cl 
Daniel Boone. James was a noble lad of but seventeen 
years. His untimely death was a terrible blow to his 
father and mother. This massacre took place on the 
tenth of October, only a fortnight after the expedition 
had commenced its march. The gloom which it threw 
over the minds of the emigrants was so great, that 
the majority refused to press any farther into a wil- 
derness where they would encounter such perils. 

They had already passed two mountain ridges. 
Between them there was a very beautiful valley, 
through which flows the Clinch River. This many 
leagues below, uniting with the Holston River, flowing 
on the other side of Powell's Ridge, composes the 
majestic Tennessee, which, extending far down into 
Alabama, turns again north, and traversing the whole 
breadth of Tennessee and Kentucky, empties into the 
Ohio. 

Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Daniel Boone 
"and his brother, the majority of the emigrants resolved 
to retreat forty miles over the Walden Ridge, and 
establish themselves in the valley of the Clinch. 
Daniel Bcx)ne, finding all his attempts to encourage 
them to proceed in vain, decided with his customary 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. l6f 

good sense to acquiesce in their wishes, and quietly 
to await further developments. The whole party 
consequently retraced their steps, and reared their 
cabins on fertile meadows in the valley of the Clinch 
River. Here, between parallel ridges of mountains^ 
running north-east and south-west, Boone with his. 
disheartened emigrants passed seven months. This^ 
settlement was within the limits of the present State 
of Virginia, in its most extreme south-western corner. 
The value of the vast country beyond the mountains 
was beginning to attract the attention of the governors 
of the several colonies. Governor Dunmore of Vir- 
ginia had sent a party of surveyors to explore the 
valley of the Ohio River as far as the celebrated Falls- 
of the Ohio, near the present site of Louisville. Quite 
a body of these surveyors had built and fortified a 
camp near the Falls, and were busy in exploring the 
country, in preparation for the granting of lands 
as rewards for services to the officers and soldiers in 
the French war. These pioneers were far away in the 
wilderness, four hundred miles beyond any settlement 
of the whites. They were surrounded by thousands 
of Indian warriors, and still they felt somewhat 
secure, as a treaty of peace had been made by the 
Governor of Virginia with the neighboring chiefs. 
But, notwithstanding this treaty, many of the more 
intelligent of the Inc:ians foresaw the inevitable des^ 



l6S DANIEL BOONE. 

truction of their hunting grounds, should the white 
f^^men succeed in establishing themselves on their lands, 
and cutting them up mto farms. 

A friendly Indian had informed Governor Dunmorc 
Aat a very formidable conspiracy had been organised 
by the tribes for the destruction of the party en- 
camped at the Falls of the Ohio, and for the extermi- 
nation of every other party of whites who should 
penetrate their hunting grounds. It was in accordance 
^th this conspiracy that Daniel Boone's party was 
so fiercely assailed when near the Gap, in the Cum- 
'berland mountains ; and it was probably the know- 
ledge of this conspiracy, thus practically developed, 
which led the husbands and fathers to abandon their 
enterprise of plunging into the wilderness of Ken- 
■tucky. 

There were about forty men all numbered, in the 
little band of surveyors at the Fails. They were in 
terrible peril. Unconscious of danger, and supposing 
the Indians to be friendly, they were liable to be 
• attacked on any day by overwhelming numbers of 
"Savages, and utterly exterminated. It consequently 
t became a matter of great moment that Governor 
'Dunmore should send them word of their danger, 
■and if possible secure their safe return to the settle- 
ments, But who would undertake such a mission ? 
^ne fraught with greater danger could not easily be 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 69 

imagined. The courier must traverse on foot a 
distance of four or five hundred miles through a 
pathless wilderness, filled with hunting bands of 
hostile savages. He must live upon the game he 
could shoot each day, when every discharge of his 
musket was liable to bring upon him scores of foesw 
He must either eat his food raw, or cook it at a file 
whose gleam at night, or smoke by day, would be 
almost sure to attract the attention of death-dealing 
enemies. He must conceal his footprints from hunting 
bands, wandering far and wide in every direction, so 
keen in their sagacity that they could almost follow the 
track of the lightest-footed animal through the forest or 
over the prairie. 

The Indians had also well-trained dogs, who being 
once put upon the scent, could with unerring instinct 
follow any object of search, until it was overtaken. 

The name of Daniel Boone was mentioned to 
'Governor Dunmore as precisely the man to meet 
this exigency. The Governor made application to 
the practiced hunter, and Boone, without the slightest 
hesitancy, accepted the perilous office. Indeed he 
seems to have been entirely unconscious of the 
heroism he was developing. Never did knight errant 
of the middle ages undertake an achievement of equal 
daring ; for capture not .only was certain death, but 
death under the most frightful tortures. But Boonej 

16 



I/O DANIEL BOONE. 

calm, imperturbable, pensive, with never a shade oi 
boastfulness in word or action, embarked in the enter- 
prise as if it had been merely one of the ordinary 
occurrences of every-day life. In the following modest 
words he records the event in his autobiography: 

"I remained with my family on the Clinch rivei 
until the sixLh of June, 1774, when I, and one Michael 
Stoner, were solicited by Governor Dunmore of Vir- 
ginia, to go to the Falls of the Ohio to conduct into the 
settlements a number of surveyors that had been 
sent thither by him some months before, this country 
having about this time drawn the attention of many 
adventurers. We immediately complied with the 
Governor's request, and conducted in the surveyors, 
completing a tour of eight hundred miles, through 
many difficulties, in sixty-two days." 

The narrative which follows will give the reader 
some idea of the wilderness which Boone was about 
to penetrate and the perils which he was to encounter. 

An emigrant of these early days who lived to 
witness the transformation of the wilderness from a 
scene of unbroken solitude into the haunts of 
busy men, in the following words describes this 
diange and its influence upon the mind : 

" To a person who has witnessed all the changes 
which have taken place in the western country since 
its first settlement, its former appearance is like a 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 171 

dream or romance. He will find it difficult to realise 
the features of that wilderness which was the abode 
of his infant days. The little cabin of his father no 
longer exists. The little field and truck patch which 
gave him a scant j' supply of coarse bread and vege- 
tables have been swallowed up in the extended 
meadows, orchard or grain fields. The rude fort in 
which his people had resided so many painful 
summers has vanished. 

"Everywhere surrounded by the busy hum of 
men and the splendor, arts, refinements and comforts 
of civilised life, his former state and that of his 
country have vanished from his memory; or if 
sometimes he bestows a reflection on its original 
aspect, the mind seems to be carried back to a period 
of time much more remote than it really is. One 
advantage at least results from having lived in a state 
of society ever on the change and always for the 
better, that it doubles the retrospect of life. With 
me at any rate it has had that efiect Did not the 
definite number of my years teach me to the contrary, 
I should think myself at least one hundred years old 
instead of fifty. The case is said to be widely 
different with those who have passed their lives in 
cities or ancient settlements where, from year to 
year, the same unchanging aspect of things presents 
itself: 



1/2 DANIEL BOOxVE. 

**One prominent feature of the wilderness is its 
solitude. Those who plunged into the bosom of tha 
forest left behind them not only the busy hum of men, 
but of domesticated animal life generally. The 
solitude of the night was interrupted only by the 
howl of the wolf, the melancholy moan of the ill- 
boding owl or the shriek of the frightful panther. 
Even the faithful dog, the only steadfast companion 
of man among the brute creation, partook of the 
silence of the desert ; the discipline of his master 
forbade him to bark or move but in obedience to his 
command, and his native sagacity soon taught the 
propriety of obedience to this severe government. 

" The day was, if possible, more solitary than the 
night. The noise of the wild turkey, the croaking of 
the raven, or the woodpecker tapping the hollow 
beac^tree, did not much enliven the dreary scene. 
The various tribes of singing birds are not inhabitants 
of the desert. They are not carnivorous and there- 
fore must be fed from the labors of man. At any 
rate they did not exist in this country at its first 
settlement. 

" Let the imagination of the reader pursue the track 
of the adventurer into the solitary wilderness, bending 
his course towards the setting sun over undulating 
hilifi, under the shade of large forest trees, and wading 
through the rank weeds and grass which then covered 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 73 

the earth. Now he views from the top of a hill the 
winding course of a creek whose streams he wishes 
to explore. Doubtful of its course and of his own, 
he ascertains the cardinal points of north and south 
by the thickness of the moss and bark on the north 
side of the ancient trees. Now descending into a 
valley, he presages his approach to a river by seeing 
large ash, basswood and sugar trees beautifully 
festooned with wild grape vines. Watchful as Argus, 
his restless eye catches everything around him. 

** In an unknown region and surrounded with 
dangers, he is the sentinel of his own safety and 
relies on himself for protection. The toilsome march 
of the day being ended, at the fall of night he seeks 
for safety some narrow sequestered hollow, and by 
the side of a large log builds a fire and, after eating 
a coarse and scanty meal, wraps himself up in his 
blanket and lays him self down for repose on his bed 
of leaves, with his feet to the fire, hoping for favorable 
dreams, ominous of future good luck, while his faith- 
ful dog and gun rest by his side. 

" But let not the reader suppose that the pilgrim 
of the wilderness could feast his imagination with the 
romantic beauties of nature, without any drawback 
from conflicting passions. His situation did not afford 
him much time for contemplation. He was an exile 
from the warm clothing and plentiful mansions o/ 



174 DANIEL BOONE. 

society. His homely woodman's dress soon became 
old and ragged. The cravings of hunger compelled 
him to sustain from day to day the fatigues of the 
chase. Often he had to eat his venison, bear's meat, 
or wild turkey without bread or salt. His situation 
was not without its dangers. He did not know at 
what moment his foot might be stung by a serpent, 
at what moment he might meet with the formidable 
bear, or on what limb of a tree over his head the 
murderous panther might be perched, in a squatting 
attitude, to drop down upon him and tear him in pieces 
in a moment. 

** Exiled from society and its comforts, the situation 
of the first adventurers was perilous in the extreme. 
The bite of a serpent, a broken limb, a wound of any 
kind, or a fit of sickness in the wilderness without 
those accommodations which wounds and sickness 
require, was a dreadful calamity. The bed of sickness, 
without medical aid, and above all to be destitute of 
the kind attention of a mother, sister, wife, or other 
female friends, was a situation which could not be 
anticipated by the tenant of the forest, with other 
sentiments than those of the deepest horror."* 

There are no narratives of more thrilling interest 
than those which describe the perils and hair-breadth 



• Doddridge't Notes. 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1/5 

escapes which some of these bold hunters encountered. 
Immediately after the purchase of Louisiana, an ex« 
pedition under Lewis and Clark was fitted out, undei 
President Jefferson's administration, to explore the 
vast, mysterious, undefined realms which the govern- 
ment had purchased. In the month of May, 1804, the 
expedition, in birch canoes, commenced the ascent of 
the Missouri river. 

They knew not whence its source, what its length 
or the number of its tributaries, through what regions 
of fertility or barrenness it flowed, or what the charac- 
ter of the nations who might inhabit its banks. 
Paddling up the rapid current of this flood of waters 
in their frail boats, the ascent was slow. By the latter 
part of October they had reached a point fifteen 
hundred miles above the spot where the Missouri 
enters the Mississippi. Here they spent the winter 
with some friendly Indians called the Mandans. 

Early in April, Lewis and Clark, with thirty men 
in their canoes, resumed their voyage. Their course 
was nearly west. In May they reached the mouth of 
the Yellow Stone river, and on the 13th of June came 
to the Great Falls of the Missouri, Here they found 
a series of cataracts ten miles in length. At one spot 
the river plunged over a precipice eighty-seven feet in 
height. Carrying their canoes around these falls, they 
re-embarked, and paddled through what they called 



176 DANIEL 300NE. 

"The Gates of the Rocky Mountains." Here for six 
miles they were in a narrow channel with perpendicular 
walls of rock, rising on both sides to the height of 
twelve hundred feet. Thus these adventurers con- 
tinued their voyage till they reached the head of 
navigation, three thousand miles from the mouth oi 
the Missouri river. Passing through the mountains 
they launched their canoes on streams flowing to the 
west, through which they entered the Columbia 

river, reaching its mouth, through a thousand perils 

9 

on the 15th of November. They were now more 
than four thousand miles distant from the mouth of 
the Missouri. Such was the breadth of the estate 
we had purchased of France. 

Here they passed their second winter. In the 
early spring they commenced their return. When 
they arrived at the Falls of the Missouri they encoun- 
tered a numerous band of Indians, very bold and 
daring, called the Blackfoot. These savages were 
astonished beyond measure, at the effect of the rifle 
which could emit thunder and lightning, and a deadly 
though invisible bolt. Some of the boldest endea- 
vored to wrench the rifles from some of the Americans. 
Mr. Lewis found it necessary to shoot one of them 
before they would desist. The rest fled in dismay, 
but burning with the desire for revenge. The 
explorers continuing their voyage arrived at »^aint 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 77 

Loais on the 23rd of September, 1806, having been 
absent more than two years, and having traveled more 
than nine thousand miles. 

When the expedition, on its return, had reached the 
head v/aters of the Missouri, two of these fearless men, 
Colter and Potts, decided to remain in the wilderness 
to hunt beaver. Being well aware of the hostility of 
the Blackfoot Indians, within whose regions they were, 
they set their traps at night, and took them up in the 
first dawn of the day. Early one morning, they were 
ascending a creek in a canoe, visiting their traps, 
when they were alarmed by a great noise, like the 
trampling of animals. They could see nothing, as 
the perpendicular banks of the river impeded their 
view. Yet they hoped that the noise was occasioned 
simply by the rush of a herd of buffaloes. 

Their doubts were soon painfully removed. A 
band of six hundred Blackfoot warriors appeared 
upon each side of the creek. Escape was hopeless. 
The Indians beckoned to the hunters to come ashore. 
Colter turned the head of the canoe towards the 
bank, and as soon as it touched the land, a burly savage 
seized the rifle belonging to Potts, and wrenched it 
from his hand. But Colter, who was a man of extra- 
ordinary activity and strength, grasped the rifle, tore 
it from the hands of the Indian, and handed it back 
to Potts. Colter stepped ashore and was a captive 



178 DANIEL BOONE. 

PoLts, with apparent infatuation, but probably in* 
fluenced by deliberate thought, pushed again out into 
the stream. He knew that, as a captive, death by 
horrible torture awaited him. He preferred to pro- 
voke the savages to his instant destruction. An 
arrow was shot at him, which pierced his body. He 
took deliberate aim at the Indian who threw it and 
shot him dead upon the spot. Instantly a shower of 
arrows whizzed through the air, and he fell a dead 
man in the bottom of the boat. The earthly troubles 
of Potts were ended. But fearful were those upon 
which Colter was about to enter. 

The Indians, after some deliberation respecting the 
manner in which they would put him to death, strip- 
ped him entirely naked, and one of the chiefs led him 
out upon the prairie to the distance of three or four 
hundred yards from the rest of the band who were 
grouped together. Colter then perceived that he was 
to have the dreadful privilege of running for his life ; 
— ^he, entirely naked and unarmed, to be pursued by 
six hundred fleet-footed Indians with arrows and 
javelins, and with their feet and limbs protected 
from thorns and brambles by moccasins and deer- 
skin leggins. 

" Save yourself if you can," said the chief in the 
Blackfoot language as he set him loose. Colter 
sprung forward with almost supernatural speed. In» 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 1 79 

stantly the Indian's war-whoop burst from the lips of 
his six hundred pursuers. They were upon a plain 
about six miles in breadth abounding with the prickly 
pear. At the end of the plain there was Jefferson 
river, a stream but a few rods wide. Every step Colter 
took, bounding forward with almost the speed of an 
antelope, his naked feet were torn by the thorns. 
The physical effort he made was so great that the 
blood gushed from his nostrils, and flowed profisely 
down over his chest. He had half crossed the plain 
before he ventured to glance over his shoulder upon 
his pursuers, who, with hideous yells, like baying blood- 
hounds, seemed close upon his heels. Much to his 
relief he perceived that he had greatly distanced most 
of the Indians, though one stout savage, with a javelin 
in his hand, was within a hundred yards of him. 

Hope reanimated him. Regardless of lacerated 
feet and blood, he pressed forward with renovated 
vigor until he arrived within about a mile of the river, 
when he found that his pursuer was gaining rapidly 
upon him. He could hear his breathing and the 
sound of his footsteps, and expected every moment 
to feel the sharp javelin piercing his back. 

In his desperation he suddenly stopped, turned 
round and stretching out both of his arms, rushed, in 
his utter defencelessness, upon the armed warrior. 
The savage, startled by thi« unexpected movement 



l8o DANIEL BOONE. 

and by the bloody appearance of his victim, stumbled 
and fell, breaking his spear as he attempted to throw 
it. Colter instantly snatched up the pointed part, and 
pinned his foe, quivering with convulsions to the earth. 

Again he plunged forward on the race for life. 
The Indians, as they came up, stopped for a moment 
around the body of their slain comrade, and then» 
with hideous yells, resumed the pursuit. The stream 
was fringed with a dense growth of cotton-wood trees. 
Colter rushed through them, thus concealed from 
observation, and seeing near by a large raft of drift 
timber, he plunged into the water, dived under the 
raft and fortunately succeeded in getting his head 
above the water between the logs, wh6re smallef 
wood covered hihi to the depth of several feet. 

Scarcely had he attained this hiding place ere the 
Indians like so many fiends came rushing down to 
the river's bank. They searched the cotto >wood 
thickets, and traversed the raft in all directions. They 
frequently came so near the hiding place of Colter 
that he could see them through the chinks. He was 
terribly afraid that they would set fire to the raft 
Night came on, and the Indians disappeared. Colter, 
in the darkness, dived from under the raft, swam 
down the river to a considerable distance, and then 
landed and traveled all night, following the course of 
the stream. 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. i8l 

"Although happy in having escaped from the 
Indians, his situation was still dreadful. He ivas com- 
pletely naked under a burning sun. The soles of his 
feet were filled with the thorns of the prickly pear. 
He was hungry and had no means of killing game^ 
although he saw abundance around him ; and was at 
a great distance from the nearest settlement. After 
some days of sore travel, during which he had no 
other sustenance than the root known by naturalists 
under the name oi psoralea esculenta, he at length 
arrived in safety at Lisa Fort, on the Big Horn, a 
branch of the Yellow Stone river." 




CHAPTER VIII. 

Captivity and Flight. 

* 

Heroism of Thomas Higgins and of Mrs. Pursley. — AfRtlrs at Boones- 
borough. — Continued Alarms. — Need of Salt. — Its Manufaotare.— 
Indian Schemes. — Capture of Boone and twenty-seven men. — « 
Dilemma of the British at Detroit. — Blackfish adopts Colonel 
Boone. — Adoption Ceremony. — Indian Designs. — Escape of Boono. 
— Attacks the Savages. — ^The Fort Threatened. 

The following well authenticated account of the 
adventures of a ranger is so graphically described in 
Brown's History of Illinois^ that we give it in the 
words of the writer : 

" Thomas Higgins, a native Kentuckian, was, in 
the summer of 1814, stationed in a block-house eight 
miles south of Greenville, in what is now Bond 
County, Illinois. On the evening of the 30th of 
August, 1 8 14, a small party of Indians having been 
seen prowling about the station, Lieutenant Journay, 
with all his men, twelve only in number, sallied forth 
the next morning, just before daybreak, in pursuit of 
them. They had not proceeded far on the border of the 
prairie, before they were in an ambuscade of seventy 
or eighty savages. At the first fire, the lieutenant 
and three of his men were killed. Six fled to the fort 

(183) 



CAfTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 1 83 

under cover of the smoke, for the morning was sultry, 
and the air being damp, the smoke from the guns hung 
like a cloud over the scene. But Higgins remained 
behind to have * one more pull at the enemy,' and to 
avenge the death of his companions. 

** He sprang behind a small elm scarcely sufficient 
to protect his body, when, the smoke partly rising, 
discovered to him a number of Indians, upon whom 
he fired, and shot down the foremost one. Concealed 
still by the smoke, Higgins reloaded, mounted his 
horse, and turned to fly, when a voice, apparently 
from the grass, hailed him with : Tom, you won't 
leave me, will you ? 

" He turned immediately around, and seeing a fellow 
soldier by the name of Burgess lying on the ground, 
wounded and gasping for breath, replied, ' No, I will 
not leave you ; come along.' * I can't come,* said 
Burgess, * my leg is all smashed to pieces.* 

" Higgins dismounted, and taking up his friend, 
whose ankle had been broken, was about to lift him 
on his horse, when the animal, taking fright, darted 
off in an instant and left them both behind. ' This 
is too bad,' said Higgins, 'but don't fear. You hop 
•ff on your three legs and I will stay behind between 
you and the Indians and keep them off. Get into 
the tallest grass and creep as near the ground as pos- 
gible.' Burgess did so and escaped. 



284 DANIEL BOONE. ^ 

" The smoke which had hitherto concealed Higgina 
now cleared away, and he resolved, if possible, to 
retreat. To follow the track of Burgess was most 
expedient. It would, however, endanger his friend 
He determined, therefore, to venture boldly forward 
and, if discovered, to secure his own safety by the 
rapidity of his flight. On leaving a small thicket in 
which he had sought refuge, he discovered a tall, 
portly savage near by, and two others in the direction 
between him and the fort. 

"He started, therefore, for a little rivulet near, but 
found one of his limbs failing him, it having been 
struck by a ball in the first encounter, of which, till 
now, he was scarcely conscious. The largest Indian 
pressed close upon him, and Higgins turned round 
two or three times in order to fire. The Indian 
halted and danced about to prevent his taking aim. 
He saw that it was unsafe to fire at random, and per- 
ceiving two others approaching, knew that he must 
be overpowered unless he could dispose of the forward 
Indian first. He resolved, therefore, to halt and 
receive his fire. 

" The Indian raised his rifle, and Higgins, watching 
his eye, turned suddenly as his finger pressed the 
trigger, and received the ball in his thigh. He fell, 
but rose immediately and ran. The foremost Indian, 
now certain oi his prey, loaded again, and with the 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 1 85 

Other two pressed on. They overtook him. He fell 
again, and as he rose the whole three fired, and he 
received all their balls. He now fell and rose a third 
time, and the Indians, throwing away their guns, 
advanced upon him with spears and IcRives. As he 
presented his gun at one or another, each fell back. 
At last the largest Indian, supposing his gun to be 
empty, from his fire having been thus reserved, ad- 
vanced boldly to the charge. Higgins fired and the 
savage fell. 

" He had now four bullets in his body, an empty 
gun in his hand, two Indians unharmed as yet before 
him, and a whole tribe but a few yards distant. Any 
other man would have despaired. Not so with him. 
He had slain the most dangerous of the three, and 
having but little to fear from the others, began to 
load his rifle. They raised a savage whoop and 
rushed to the encounter. A bloody conflict now en- 
sued. The Indians stabbed him in several places. 
Their spears, however, wfre but thin poles, hastily 
prepared, and which bent whenever they struck a rib 
or a muscle. The wounds they made were not 
therefore deep, though numerous. 

** At last one of them threw his tomahawk. It struck 
him upon the cheek, severed his ear, laid bare his 
skuU to the back of his head, and stretched him upon 
the prairie. The Indians again rushed on, but Uig-^ 



1 86 DANIEL BOONE. 

gins, recovering his self-possession, kept them off 
with his feet and hands. Grasping at length one of 
their spears, the Indian, in attempting to pull it from 
him, raised Higgins up, who, taking his rifle, dashed 
out the brains of the nearest savage. In doing this, 
however, it broke, the barrel only remaining in his 
hand. The other Indian, who had heretofore fought 
with caution, came now manfully into the battle. 
His character as a warrior was in jeopardy. To have 
fled from a man thus wounded and disarmed, or to 
have suffered his victim to escape, would have tar- 
nished his fame for ever. Uttering, therefore, a ter- 
rific yell, he rushed on and attempted to stab the 
exhausted ranger. But the latter warded off his 
blow with one hand and brandished his rifle barrel 
with the other. The Indian was as yet unharmed, 
and, under existing circumstances, by far the most 
powerful man. Higgins' courage, however, was un- 
exhausted and inexhaustible. 

" The savage at last began to retreat from the glare 
of his untamed eye to the spot where he had dropped 
his rifle. Higgins knew that if he recovered that, his 
own case was desperate. Throwing, therefore, his 
rifle barrel aside, and drawing his hunting knife he 
rushed upon his foe. A desperate strife ensued — ■ 
deep gashes were inflicted on both sides Higgins, 
fatigued and exhausted by the loss of blood, was no 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 1 87 

longer a match for the savage. The latter succeeded 
in throwing his adversary from him, and went imme- 
diately in pursuit of his rifle. Higgins at the same 
time rose and sought for the gun of the other Indian. 
Both, therefore, bleeding and out of breath, were in 
search of arms to renew the combat. 

"The smoke had now passed away, and a large 
number of Indians were in view. Nothing, it would 
seem, could now save the gallant ranger. There wa^ 
however, an eye to pity and an arm to save, and that 
arm was a woman's. The little garrison had wit- 
nessed the whole combat. It consisted of but six 
men and one woman ; that woman, however, was a 
host — a Mrs. Pursley. When she saw Higgins con- 
tending single-handed with a whole tribe of savages, 
she urged the rangers to attempt his rescue. The 
rangers objected, as the Indians were ten to one. 
Mrs. Pursley, therefore, snatched a rifle from her 
husband's hand, and declaring that * so fine a fellow 
as Tom Higgins should not be lost for want of help,* 
mounted a horse and sallied forth to his rescue. 

" The men, unwilling to be outdone by a woman, 
followed at full gallop, reached the spot where 
Higgins (^^ fainted and (Sl^ before the Indians 
came up, and while the savage with whom he had 
been engaged was looking for his rifle, his friends 
lifted the wounded ranger up and throwing him 



1 88 DANIEL BOONE. 

across a horse before one of the party, reached the 
ibrt in safety. 

" Higijins was insensible for several days, and his 
life was preserved by continued care. His friend.? 
extracted two of the balls from his thigh. Two, 
however, yet remained, one of which gave him a good 
deal of pain. Hearing afterwards that a physician had 
settled within a day's ride of him, he determined to go 
and see him. The physician asked him fifty dollars 
for the operation. This Higgins flatly refused, saying 
that it was more than half a year's pension. On 
reaching home he found that the exercise of riding 
had made the ball discernible ; he requested his wife, 
therefore, to hand him his razor. With her assistance 
he laid open his thigh until the edge of the razor 
touched the bullet, then, inserting his two thumbs 
into the gash, *he flirted it out/ as he used to say, 
* without it costing him a cent.' 

" The other ball yet remained. It gave him, how- 
ever, but little pain, and he carried it with him to the 
grave. Higgins died in Fayette County, Illinois, a 
few years ago. He was the most perfect specimen of 
a frontier man in his day, and was once assistant 
door-keeper of the House of Representatives in 
Illinois. The facts above stated are familiar to many 
to whom Higgins was personally known." * 

« Brown's Ilhuoui. 



CAPTIVITV AND FLIGHT. 1 89 

This narrative gives one a very vivid idea of the 
nature of the conflict in which Boone, through so 
many years of his life, was engaged. The Httle fort, 
whose feeble garrison he commanded, was liable at 
any time to be assailed by overwhelming numbers. 

Daniel Boone, during his occupancy of the fort at 
Boonesborough, manifested the most constant vigi- 
lance to guard against surprise. He was however 
struggling against a foe whose cunning and strategems 
were such, as not to allow him an hour of quiet. One 
morning two men laboring in the field were shot at 
by the Indians. Not being hit, they ran for the fort. 
They were pursued by the savages, and one was 
tomahawked and scalped within a few hundred feet 
of the gate. Boone hearing the alarm, inconsiderately 
rushed out with ten men upon the miscreants. They 
fled before him hotly pursued. In the eagerness of 
the chase, Boone had not counted the number of his 
foes. Some of them rushing from their ambush cut 
off his retreat. At one discharge, six of his men fell 
wounded. Boone's leg was shattered by a ball. 

As he fell to the ground, the tomahawk of a savage 
was over his head. Simon Kenton, who was one of 
Boone's party, with sure aim pierced the heart of the 
savage with a rifle bullet and he fell dead. Reinforce- 
ments rushed from the fort, and fortunately succeeded 
in rescuing the adventurous party, the wounded and 



I^O DANIEL BOONE. 

all. It is said of Boone, that though a silent man and 
not given to compliments, he manifested very deep 
gratitude to his friend Kenton for saving his life. 
The very peculiar character of Boone is vividly pre- 
sent ed in the following sketch, from the graphic pen 
of Mr. Peck : 

"As dangers thickened and appearances grew 
more alarming, as scouts came in with rumors of 
Indians seen here and there, and as the hardy and 
bold woodsmen sat around their camp-fires with the 
loaded rifle at hand, rehearsing for the twentieth time 
the tales of noble daring, or the hair-breadth escapes, 
Boone would sit silent, apparently not heeding the 
conversation, employed in repairing the rents in his 
hunting shirt and leggins, moulding bullets or cleaning 
his rifle. Yet the eyes of the garrison were upon him. 
Cpncerning * Indian signs' he was an oracle. 

" Sometimes with one or two trusty companions, 
but more frequently alone, as night closed in, he 
would steal noiselessly away into the woods, to recon- 
noiter the surrounding wilderness. And in the day 
time, stealthily would he creep along with his trusty 
rifle resting on his arm, ready for the least sign of 
danger, his keen, piercing eyes glancing into every 
thicket and canetrake, or watch intently for 'signs' 
of the wiley enemy. Accustomed to range the 
country as a hunter and a scout, he would frequently 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. I9I 

meet the approaching travelers on the road and pilot 
them into the settlement, while his rifle supplied them 
with provisions. He was ever more ready to aid 
the community, or to engage in public services, than 
to attend to his private interests." 

The want of salt had become one of the greatest 
privations of the garrison. It was an article essential 
to comfort and health, and yet, in the warfare then 
existing, was almost impossible of attainment. 
Upon the [picking river, nearly a hundred miles north 
from Boonesborough, there were valuable springs 
richly impregnated with salt. Animals from all 
quarters frequented these springs, licking the satur- 
ated clay around them. Hence the name of Salt 
Licks. Evaporating the water by boiling in large 
kettles, salt of a good quality was easily obtained. 
The necessities of the garrison became so great, that 
Colonel Boone took a well-armed party of thirty 
men, and threading their way through the wilder- 
derness, at length reached the springs unassailed. It 
was one of the boldest of adventures. It was 
certain that the watchful Indians would learn that a 
party had left the cover of the fort, and would fall 
upon them with great ferocity. 

Colonel Boone, who desired to obtain salt for all the 
garrisons, deemed it consequently necessary to work 
flight and day with the greatest possible diligence 



192 DANIEL BOONE. 

They could never venture to move a step beyond 
the grasp of their rifles. For nearly four weeks the 
.salt makers pursued their work unassailed. The news 
of so strong and well armed a party having left the 
fort, reached the ears of the Indians. They had a 
very great dread of Boone, and knew very well he 
would not be found sleeping or unprotected, at the 
springs. They shrewdly inferred that the departure 
of so many men must greatly weaken the garrison, 
and that they could never hope for a more favorable 
opportunity to attack Boonesborough. 

This formidable fortress was the great object of 
their dread. They thought that if they could lay it in 
ashes, making it the funeral pyre of all its inmates, 
the weaker forts would be immediately abandoned by 
their garrisons in despair, or could easily be captured. 
An expedition was formed, consisting of more than 
a hundred Indian warriors, and accompanied it is 
said by two Frenchmen. Boone had sent three men 
back to the garrison, loaded with salt, and to convey 
tidii gs of the good condition of the party at the 
springs 

On the morning of the seventh of February, Boone> 
who was unequalled in his skill as a hunter, and also 
in the sagacity by which he could avoid the Indians^ 
was out in search of game as food for the party. 
Emboldened by the absence of all signs of the vicinity 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 19$ 

of the Indians, he had wandered some distance from 
the springs, where he encountered this band of 
warriors, attended by the two Frenchmen, on the 
march for the assault on Boonesborough. Though 
exceedingly fleet of foot, his attempt to escape was 
in vain. The young Indian runners overtook and 
captured him. 

The Indians seem to have had great respect for 
Boone. Even with them he had acquired the reputa- 
tion of being a just and humane man, while his 
extraordinary abilities, both as a hunter and a warrior, 
had won their admiration. Boone was not heading a 
war party to assail them. He had not robbed them 
of any of their horses. They were therefore not 
exasperated against him personally. It is also not 
improbable that the Frenchmen who were with them 
had influenced them not to treat their prisoner with 
barbarity. 

Boone, whose spirits seemed never to be perturbed, 
yielded so gracefully to his captors as to awaken in 
their bosoms some emotions of kindness. They prom- 
ised that if the party at the springs would yield with- 
out resistance — which resistance, though unavailing, 
they knew would cost them the lives of many of their 
warriors — the lives of the captives should be safe, and 
they should not be exposed to any inhuman treatment. 
Boone was much perplexed. Had he been with his 

17 



194 DANIEL BOONE. 

men, he would have fought to the last extremity, and 
his presence not improbably might have inspirited 
tliem, even to a successful defence. But deprived of 
their leader, taken entirely by surprise, and out- 
numbered three or four to one, their massacre was 
certain. And it was also certain that the Indians, 
exasperated by the loss which they would have en- 
countered, would put every prisoner to death, through 
all the horrors of fiend-like torture. 

Under these circumstances, Colonel Boone very 
wisely decided upon surrender. It would have been 
very impolitic and cruel to do otherwise. He having 
thus given his word, the Indians placed implicit 
confidence in it. They were also perfectly faithful to 
their own promises. Boone was allowed to approach 
his men, and represent the necessity of a surrender, 
which was immediately effected. The Indians were so 
elated by this great victory, and were so well satisfied 
with the result of the campaign, that instead of 
continuing their march for the attack of Boones- 
borough, they returned with their illustrious captive 
and his twenty-seven companions to their head- 
quarters on the Little Miami River. 

The modest, unaffected account which Boone 
himself gives of these transactions, is worthy of record 
here : 

" On the seventh of February, as I was hunting to 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT, 1 95 

procure meat for the company, I met a party of one 
hundred and two Indians, and two Frenchmen, on 
flieir march against Boonesborough ; that place being 
particularly the object of the enemy. They pursued 
and took me, and brought me the eighth day to the 
Licks, where twenty-seven of my party were, three of 
them having previously returned home with the salt 
I, knowing it was impossible for them to escape, 
capitulated with the enemy, and at a distance, in their 
view, gave notice to my men of their situation with 
orders not to resist, but surrender themselves captives, 

" The generous usage the Indians had promised 
before in my capitulation, was afterwards fully 
complied with, and we proceeded with them as 
prisoners to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian town 
on Little Miami, where we arrived, after an uncomfort- 
able journey in very severe weather, on the eighteenth 
of February, and received as good treatment as 
prisoners could expect from savages. On the tenth 
of March following, I and ten of my men were 
conducted by forty Indians to Detroit, where we 
arrived the thirtieth day, and were treated by 
Governor Hamilton, the British commander at that 
post, with great humanity. 

" During our travels, the Indians entertained mc 
well, and their affection for me was so great, that they 
utterly refused to leave me there with the others^ 



tg6 DANIEL BOONE. 

although the Governor offered them one hundred 
pounds sterling for me, on purpose to give me a 
parole to go home. Several English gentlemen there, 
being sensible of my adverse fortune, and touched 
with human sympathy, generously offered a friendly 
supply for my wants, which I refused with many 
thanks for their kindness, adding that I never 
expected it would be in my power to recompense such 
unmerited generosity." 

The British officers in Detroit could not venture to 
interfere in behalf of Colonel Boone, in any way which 
would displease their savage allies, for they relied 
much upon them in their warfare against the colonies. 

There was much in the character of our hero to win 
the affection of the savages. His silent, unboastful 
courage they admired. He was more than their 
equal in his skill in traversing the pathless forest 
His prowess as a hunter they fully appreciated. It 
was their hope that he would consent to be incorporated 
|n their tribe, and they would gladly have accepted 
him as one of their chiefs. The savages had almost 
universally sufficient intelligence to appreciate the 
'Vast superiority of the white man. 

The Indians spent ten days at Detroit, and surren- 
dered, for a ransom, all their captives to the English, 
excepting Colonel Boone. Him they took back on a 
long and fatiguing journey to Old Chilicothe on the 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 19; 

Little Miami. The country they traversed, now so 
full of wealth, activity, and all the resources of 
individual and social happiness, was then a vast 
wilderness, silent and lonely. Still in its solitude tt 
was very beautiful, embellished with fertile plains, 
magnificent groves, and crystal streams. At Chilicothe, 
Colonel Boone was formally adopted, according to an 
Indian custom, into the family of Blackfish, one of 
the distinguished chiefs of the Shawanese tribe. 

** At Chilicothe," writes Boone, " I spent my time 
as comfortably as I could expect. I was adopted 
according to their custom, into a family where I 
became a son, and had a great share in the affection 
of my new parents, brothers, sisters and friends. I 
was exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, 
always appearing as cheerful and satisfied as possible, 
and they put great confidence in me. I often went 
hunting with them, and frequently gained their ap- 
plause for my activity, at our shooting matches. I 
was careful not to excel them when shooting, for no 
people are more envious than they in their sport I 
could observe in their countenances and gestures, the 
greatest expressions of joy when they exceeded me, 
and when the reverse happened, of envy. The 
Shawanese king took great notice of me, and treated 
me with profound respect and entire friendship, often 
trusting me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently 



19^ DANIEL BOONE. 

returned with the spoils of the woods and as often 
presented some of what I had taken to him; expres- 
sive of my duty to my sovereign. My (c^d and 
lodging were in common with them. Not so good, 
indeed, as I could desire, but necessity makes every- 
thing acceptable." 

The spirit manifested by' Boone under these cir- 
cumstances, when he was apparently a hopeless pri- 
soner in the hands of the Indians, was not influenced 
by artifice alone. He had real sympathy for the 
savages, being fully conscious of the wrongs which 
were often inflicted upon them, and which goaded 
their untamed natures to fearful barbarities. He had 
always treated them not only kindly, but with frater- 
nal respect. The generous treatment he had received 
in return won his regards. His peculiarly placid 
nature was not easily disturbed by any reverses. Let 
what would happen, he never allowed himself to com- 
plain or to worry. Thus making the best of circum- 
stances, he always looked upoa the brightest side of 
things, and was reasonably happy, even In this direful 
captivity. Still he could not forget his home, and 
was continually on the alert to avail himself of what- 
ever opportunity might be presented to escape and 
return to his friends. 

The ceremony of adoption was pretty severe and 
painful. All the hair of the head was plucked out 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. I99 

by a tedious operation, leaving simply a tuft three or 
four inches in diameter on the crown. This was 
called the scalp-lock. The hair was here allowed to 
g^ow long, and was dressed with ribbons and feathers 
It was to an individual warrior what the banner is to 
an army. The victor tore it from the skull as his 
trophy. Having thus denuded the head and dressed 
the scalp-lock, the candidate was taken to the river 
and very thoroughly scrubbed., that all the white 
blood might be washed out of him. His face was 
painted in the most approved style of Indian taste, 
when he was led to the council lodge and addressed 
by the chief in a long and formal speech, in which he 
expatiates upon the honor conferred upon the adopted 
son, and upon the corresponding duties expected of 
him. 

Colonel Boone having passed through this trans- 
formation, with his Indian dress and his painted 
cheeks, his tufted scalp-lock and his whole person 
embrowned by constant exposure to the open air, 
could scarcely be distinguished from any of his Indian 
associates. His wary captors however, notwithstand' 
ing all the kindness with which they treated him^ 
seemed to be conscious that it must be his desire to 
return to his friends. They therefore habitually, but 
without a remark suggestive of any suspicions, adopted 
precautions to prevent his escape So skiliui a huo* 



2O0 DANIEL BOONE. 

ter as Boone could, with his rifle and a supply of 
ammunition, traverse the solitary expanse around for 
almost any length of time, living in abundance. But 
deprived of his rifle or of ammunition, he would soon 
almost inevitably perish of starvation. The Indians 
were therefore very careful not to allow him to accu- 
mulate any ammunition, which was so essential to 
sustain him in a journey through the wilderness. 

Though Boone was often allowed to go out alone 
to hunt, they always counted his balls and the 
charges of powder. Thus they could judge whether 
he had concealed any ammunition to aid him, should 
he attempt to escape. He however, with equal 
sagacity, cut the balls in halves, and used very small 
charges of powder. Thus he secretly laid aside quite 
a little store of ammunition. As ever undismayed 
by misfortune, he serenely gave the energies of his 
mind to the careful survey of the country around. 

" During the time that I hunted for them," he 
writes, " I found the land for a great extent about 
this river to exceed the soil of Kentucky if possible, 
and remarkably well watered." 

Upon one of the branches of the Scioto river, 
which stream runs about sixty miles east of the Little 
Miami, there were some salt springs. Early in June 
a party of the Indians set out for these " Licks " to 
make salt. They took Boone with them. The In- 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 20I 

dians were quite averse to anything like hard work. 
Boone not only understood the process of manufac- 
ture perfectly, but was always quietly and energeti- 
cally devoted to whatever he undertook. The Indians, 
inspired by the double motive of the desire to obtain 
AS much salt as possible, and to hold securely the 
prisoner, whom they so highly valued, kept him so 
busy at the kettles as to give him no opportunity to 
€scape. 

After an absence of about a fortnight, they returned 
with a good supply of salt to the Little Miami. 
Here Boone was quite alarmed to find that during 
his absence the chiefs had been marshaling a band of 
tour hundred and fifty of their bravest warriors to 
attack Boonesborough. In that fort were his wife and 
his children. Its capture would probably insure their 
slaughter. He was aware that the fort was not suffi- 
ciently guarded by its present inmates, and that, 
unapprehensive of impending danger, they were liable 
to be taken entirely by surprise. Boone was suffi- 
ciently acquainted with the Shawanese dialect to 
understand every word they said, while he very 
sagaciously had assumed, from the moment of his 
captivity, that he was entirely ignorant of their lan- 
guage. 

Boone's anxiety was very great. He was com- 
pelled to assume a smiling face as he attended theif 



202 DANIEL BOONE. 

war dances. Apparently unmoved, he listened to the 
details of their plans for the surprise of the fort 
Indeed, to disarm suspicion and to convince them 
that he had truly become one of their number, he 
cooperated in giving efficiency to their hostile designs 
against all he held most dear in the world. 

It had now become a matter of infinite moment 
that he should immediately escape and carry to his 
friends in the fort the tidings of their peril. But the 
slightest unwary movement would have led the sus- 
picious Indians so to redouble their vigilance as to 
render escape utterly impossible. So skilfully did 
hfe conceal the emotions which agitated him, and so 
successfully did he feign entire contentment with his 
lot, that his captors, all absorbed in the enterprise in 
which they were engaged, remitted their ordinary 
vigilance. 

On the morning of the sixteenth of June, Boone 
rose very early to take his usual hunt. With his 
secreted ammunition, and the amount allowed him 
by the Indians for the day, he hoped to be 
able to save himself from starvation, during his 
flight of five days through the pathless wilderness. 
There was a distance of one hundred and sixty miles 
between Old Chilicothe and Boonesborough. The 
moment his flight should be suspected, four hundred 
and fifty Indian warriors, breathing vengeancOp and 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 20^ 

in perfect preparation for the pursuit, would be on 
his track. His capture would almost certainly result 
in his death by the most cruel tortures ; for the 
Infuriated Indians would wreak upon him all their 
vengeance 

It is however not probable that this silent, pensive 
man allowed these thoughts seriously to disturb his 
equanimity. An instinctive trust in God seemed to 
inspire him. He was forty-three years of age. In 
the knowledge of wood-craft, and in powers of endur- 
ance, no Indian surpassed him. Though he would be 
pursued by sagacious and veteran warriors and by 
young Indian braves, a pack of four hundred and 
fifty savages following with keener scent than that 
of the bloodhound, one poor victim, yet undismayed, 
he entered upon the appalling enterprise. The 
history of the world perhaps presents but few feats 
so difficult, and yet so successfully performed. And 
yet the only record which this modest man makes, in 
his autobiography, of this wonderful adventure is as 
follows : 

** On the sixteenth, before sunrise, I departed in 
the most secret manner, and arrived at Boones* 
borough on the twentieth, after a journey of one 
hundred and sixty miles, during which I had but one 
meal." 

It was necessary, as soon as Boone got out of sight 



204 DANIEL BOONE. 

of the village, to fly with the utmost speed, to put as 
great a distance as possible between himself and his 
pursuers, before they should suspect his attempt at 
escape. He subsequently learned that as soon as the 
Indians apprehended that he had actually fled, there 
was the most intense commotion in their camp, and 
immediately a large number of their fleetest runners 
and keenest hunters were put upon his trail. He 
dared not fire a gun. Had he killed any game he 
could not have ventured to kindle a fire to cook it. 
He had secretly provided himself with a few cuts of 
dried venison with which he could appease his hunger 
as he pressed forward by day and by night, scarcely 
allowing himself one moment for rest or sleep. His 
route lay through forests and swamps, and across 
many streams swollen by recent rains. 

At length he reached the Ohio river. Its current 
was swift and turbid, rolling in a majestic flood half a 
mile in width, filling the bed of the stream with 
almost fathomless waters from shore to shore. Ex- 
perienced as Colonel Boone was in wood-craft, he was 
not a skilful swimmer. The thought of how he 
should cross the Ohio had caused him much anxiety 
Upon reaching its banks he fortunately — may we not 
say providentially — found an old canoe which had 
drifted among the bushes upon the shore. There was 
a large hole at one end, and it was nearly filled with 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 205 

water. He succeeded in bailing out the water and 
plugging up the hole, and crossed the river in safety. 
Then for the first time he so far indulged in a feeling 
of security as to venture to shoot a turkey, and kind- 
ling a fire he feasted abundantly upon the rich repast. 
It was the only meal in which he indulged during 
his flight of five days. 

On his arrival at Boonesborough, he was welcomed 
as one risen from the grave. Much to his disappoint- 
ment he found that his wife with his children, des- 
pairing of ever seeing him again, had left the fort 
and returned to the house of her father, in North 
Carolina. She supposed that the Indians had killed 
him. " Oppressed," writes Boone, " with the distresses 
of the country and bereaved of me, her only happi- 
ness, she had undertaken her long and perilous jour- 
ney through the wilderness." It is gratifying to 
record that she reached her friends in safety. 

Boone found the fort as he had apprehended, in a 
bad state of defence. His presence, his military 
skill, and the intelligence he brought, immediately 
inspired every man to the intensest exertion. The 
gates were strengthened, new bastions were formed, 
and provisions were laid in, to stand a siege. Every- 
thing was done which could be done to repel an 
assault from they knew not how many savages, aided 
by British leaders, for the band from old Chilicothe, 

18 



2o6 DA.NIEL BOONE. 

was to be joined by warriors from several othes 
tribes. In ten days, Boonesborough was ready fof 
the onset. These arduous labors being completed, 
Boone heroically resolved to strike consternation into 
the Indians, by showing them that he was prepared 
for aggressive as well as defensive warfare, and 
that they must leave behind them warriors for the 
protection of their own villages. 

Selecting a small party of but nineteen men, about 
the first of August he emerged from Boonesborough, 
marched boldly to the Ohio, crossed the river, entered 
the valley of the Scioto, and was within four miles of 
an Indian town, Paint Creek, which he intended to 
destroy, when he chanced to encounter a band of 
thirty savages painted, thoroughly armed and on 
the war path, to join the band advancing from Old 
Chilicothe. The Indians were attacked with such 
vehemence by Boone, that they fled in consternation, 
leaving behind them three horses and all their 
baggage. The savages also lost one killed and two 
wounded, while they inflicted no loss whatever upon 
the white men. 

Boone sent forward some swift runners as spies, and 
they speedily returned with the report that the Indians 
in a panic had entirely abandoned Paint Creek. 
Aware that the warriors would rush to join the four 
hundred and fifty from Old Chilicothe, and that they 



CAPTIVITY AND FLIGHT. 20/ 

might cut off his retreat, or reach Boonesborough 
before his return, he immediately commenced a rapid 
movement back to the fort. Every man would be 
needed there for an obstinate defence. This foray 
had extended one hundred and fifty miles from the 
fort. It greatly alarmed the Indians. It emboldened 
the hearts of the garrison, and gave them intelligence 
of the approach of their foes. After an absence of 
but seven days, Boone with his heroic little band 
quite triumphantly re-entered the fort. 

The approach of the foe is described in the following 
terms by Boone : 

" On the eighth of August, the Indian army arrived, 
being four hundred and fbrtv-four in number, com- 
manded by Captain (puquesnd eleven other French- 
men and some of their own chiefs, and marched up 
in view of our fort, with British and French colors 
flying. And having sent a summons to me in His 
Britannic Majesty's name to surrender the fort, 1 
requested two days' consideration which was granted. 
It was now a critical period with us. We were a 
small number in the garrison; a powerful army before 
our walls, whose appearance proclaimed inevitable 
death ; fearfully painted and marking their foot- 
steps with desolation. Death was preferable to cap- 
tivity ; and if taken by storm, we must inevitably be 
devoted to destruction. 



208 DANIEL BOONE. 

•* In this situation we concluded to maintain out 
garrison if possible. We immediately proceeded to 
collect what we could of our horses and other cattle^ 
and bring them through the posterns into the fort; 
and in the evening of the ninth, I returned the 
answer * that we were determined to defend our fort 
while a man was living.' 

" * Now, ' said I to their commander who stood 
attentively hearing my sentiments, *we laugh at 
your formidable preparations, but thank you for 
giving us notice, and time for our defence. Your 
efibrts will not prevail, for our gates shall forever 
deny you admitance.' 

"Whether this answer affected their courage or 
not, I cannot tell, but contrary to our expectations, 
they formed a scheme to deceive us, declaring it was 
their orders from Governor Hamilton to take us 
captives, and not to destroy us ; but if nine of us would 
come out and treat with them, they would imme- 
diately withdraw their forces from our walls, and 
return home peaceably. This sounded grateful in 
our ears, and we agreed to the proposal." 



CHAPTER IX. 
Victories and Defeats. 

situation of the Fort. — Indian Treachery. — Bombardment. — Boodq 
goes to North Carolina. — New Trials. — Boone Bobbed. — He 
Returns to Kentucky. — Massacre of Col. Rogers. — Adventure ol 
Col. Bowman. — New Attack by the British and Indians. — ^Re- 
taliatory Measures. — ^Wonderful Exploit. 

There were but fifty men in the garrison at Boones- 
borough. They were assailed by a body of more 
than ten to one of the bravest Indian warriors, under 
the command of an officer in the British army. The 
boldest in the fort felt that their situation was almost 
desperate. The ferocity of the Indian, and the intel- 
ligence of the white man, were combined against 
them. They knew that the British commander, 
however humane he might be, would have no power, 
should the fort be taken by storm, to save them from 
death by the most horrible tortures. 

General Duquesne was acting under instructions 
from Governor Hamilton, the British officer in su- 
preme command at Detroit. Boone knew that the 
Governor felt very kindly towards him. When he 
had been carried to that place a captive, the Governor 
had made very earnest endeavors to obtain his libeiv< 

(209) 



2ro DANIEL BOONE. 

ation. Influenced by these considerations, he consented 
to hold the conference. 

But, better acquainted with the Indian character 
than perhaps Duquesne could have been, he selected 
nine of the most athletic and strong of the garrison, 
and appointed the place of meeting in front of the 
fort, at a distance of only one hundred and twenty 
feet from the walls. The riflemen of the garrison 
were placed in a position to cover the spot with their 
guns, so that in case of treachery the Indians would 
meet with instant punishment, and the retreat of the 
party from the fort would probably be secured. The 
language of Boone is : 

" We held a treaty within sixty yards of the garri- 
son on purpose to divert them from a breach of 
honor, as we could not avoid suspicion of the savages." 

The terms proposed by General Duquesne were 
extremely liberal. And while they might satisfy the 
British party, whose object in the war was simply to 
conquer the colonists and bring them back to loyalty, 
they could by no means have satisfied the Indians, 
who desired not merely to drive the white men back 
from their hunting grounds, but to plunder them of 
their possessions and to gratify their savage natures 
by hearing the shrieks of their victims at the stake 
and by carrying home the trophies of numerous 
scalps. 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 211 

Boone and his men, buried in the depths of the 
wilderness, had probably taken little interest in the 
controversy which was just then rising between the 
colonies and the mother country. They had regarded 
the King of England as their lawful sovereign, and 
their minds had never been agitated by the question 
of revolution or of independence. When, therefore, 
General Duquesne proposed that they should take 
the oath of allegiance to the King of Great Britain, 
and that then they should be permitted to return 
unmolested to their homes and their friends beyond 
the mountains, taking all their possessions with them, 
Colonel Boone and his associates were very ready to 
accept such terms. It justly appeared to them in 
their isolated condition, five hundred miles away from 
the Atlantic coast, that this was vastly preferable to 
remaining in the wilderness assailed by thousands of 
Indians guided by English energy and abundantly 
provided with all the munitions of war from British 
arsenals. 

But Boone knew ver>' well that the Indians would 
never willingly assent to this treaty. Still he and hi» 
fellow commissioners signed it while very curious to 
learn how it would be regarded by their savage foes. 
The commissioners on both sides had appeared at 
the appointed place of conference, as is usual on such 
occasions, entirely unarmed. There were, however, a 



212 DANIEL BOONE. 

large number of Indians lingering around and draw- 
ing nearer as the conference proceeded. After the 
treaty was signed, the old Indian chief Blackfish, 
Boone's adopted father, and who, exasperated by the 
escape of his ungrateful son, had been watching him 
with a very unamiable expression of countenance^ 
arose and made a formal speech in the most approved 
style of Indian eloquence. He commented upon the 
bravery of the two armies, and of the desirableness 
that there should be entire friendship between them, 
and closed by saying that it was a custom with them 
on all such important occasions to ratify the treaty 
by two Indians shaking hands with each white man. 

This shallow pretense, scarcely up to the sagacity 
of children, by which Blackfish hoped that two savages 
grappling each one of the commissioners would easily 
be able to make prisoners of them, and then by 
threats of torture compel the surrender of the fort^ 
did not in the slightest degree deceive Colonel Boone. 
He was well aware of his own strength and of that of 
the men who accompanied him. He also knew that 
his riflemen occupied concealed positions, from which, 
with unerring aim, they could instantly punish the 
savages for any act of treachery. He therefore con- 
sented to the arrangement. The grasp was given. 
Instantly a terrible scene of confusion ensued. 

The burly savages tried to drag off their victim& 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 21$ 

The surrounding Indians rushed in to their aid, and a 
deadly fire was opened upon them from the fort, 
which was energetically responded to by all the 
armed savages from behind stumps and trees. One 
of the fiercest of battles had instantly blazed forth. 
Still these stalwart pioneers were not taken by sur- 
prise. Aided by the bullets of the fort, they shook 
off their assailants, and all succeeded in escaping 
within the heavy gates, which were immediately closed 
behind them. One only of their number, Boone's 
brother, was wounded. This escape seems almost 
miraculous. But the majority of the Indians in intel- 
ligence were mere children : sometimes very cunning, 
but often with the grossest stupidity mingled with 
their strategy. 

Duquesne and Blackfish, the associated leaders, 
now commenced the siege of the fort with all their 
energies. Dividing their forces into two parties, they 
kept up an incessant fire upon the garrison for nine 
days and nine nights. It was one of the most heroic 
of those bloody struggles between civilization and 
barbarism, which have rendered the plains of Ken- 
tucky memorable. 

The savages were very careful not to expose them- 
selves to the rifles of the besieged. They were 
stationed behind rocks, and trees, and stumps, so 
that it was seldom that the garrison could catch eveo 



214 DANIEL BOONE. 

a glimpse of the foes who were assailing them. It 
was necessary for those within the fort to be sparing 
of their ammunition. They seldom fired unless they 
could take deliberate aim, and then the bullet was 
almost always sure to reach its mark. Colonel Boone, 
in describing this attempt of the Indians to capture 
the commissioners by stratagem, writes : 

** They immediately grappled us, but, although 
surrounded by hundreds of savages, we extricated 
ourselves from them and escaped all safe into the 
garrison except one, who was wounded through a 
heavy fire from their army. They immediately at- 
tacked us on every side, and a constant heavy fire 
ensued between us, day and night, for the space of 
nine days. In this time the enemy began to under- 
mine our fort, which was situated about sixty yards 
from the Kentucky river. They began at the watei 
mark and proceeded in the bank some distance, 
which we understood by their making the water 
muddy with the clay. We immediately proceeded to 
disappoint their design by cutting a trench across 
their subterranean passage. The enemy discovering 
our counter mine by the clay we threw out of the 
fort, desisted from that stratagem. Experience now 
fully convincing them that neither their power nor 
their policy could effect their purpose, on the twentieth 
of August they raised the siege and departed. 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS- 215 

"During this siege, which threatened death in 
every form, we had two men killed and four wounded, 
besides a number of cattle. We killed of the enemy 
thirty-seven and wounded a great number. After 
they were gone we picked up one hundred and twenty- 
five pounds weight of bullets, besides what stuck in 
the logs of our fort, which certainly is a great proof 
of their industry." 

It is said that during this siege, one of the negroes, 
probably a slave, deserted from the fort with one of 
their best rifles, and joined the Indians. Concealing 
himself in a tree, where unseen he could take deli- 
berate aim, he became one of the most successful of 
the assailants. But the eagle eye of Boone detected 
him, and though, as was afterwards ascertained by 
actual measurement, the tree was five hundred and 
twenty-five feet distant from the fort, Boone took 
deliberate aim, fired, and the man was seen to drop 
heavily from his covert to the ground. The bullet 
from Boone's rifle had pierced his brain. 

At one time the Indians had succeeded in setting 
iire to the fort, by throwing flaming combustibles 
upon it, attached to their arrows. One of the young 
men extinguished the flames, exposing himself to 
the concentrated and deadly fire of the assailants in 
doing so. Though the bullets fell like hailstones 
around him, the brave fellow escaped unscathed. 



2l6 DANIEL BOONE. 

This repulse quite disheartened the Indians, 
Henceforth they regarded Boonesborough as a 
Gibraltar ; impregnable to any force which they could 
bting against it. They never assailed it again. 
Though Boonesborough is now but a small village in 
Kentucky, it has a history which will render it for~ 
ever memorable in the annals of heroism. 

It will be remembered that Boone's family, sup- 
posing him to have perished by the hands of the 
Indians, had returned to the home of Mrs. Boone's 
father in North Carolina. Colonel Boone, anxious to 
rejoin his wife and children, and feeling that Boones- 
borough was safe from any immediate attack by the 
Indians, soon after the dispersion of the savages 
entered again upon the long journey through the 
wilderness, to find his friends east of the mountains. 
In the autumn of 1778, Colonel Boone again found 
himself, after all his wonderful adventures, in a peace- 
ful home on the banks of the Yadkin. 

The settlements in Kentucky continued rapidly to 
increase. The savages had apparently relinquished all 
hope of holding exclusive possession of the country. 
Though there were occasional acts of violence and 
cruelty, there was quite a truce in the Indian warfare. 
But the white settlers, and those who wished to 
emigrate, were greatly embarrassed by conflicting 
land claims. Many of the pioneers found their titlei 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS 2lf 

pronounced to be of no validity. Others who wished 
to emigrate, experienced great difficulty in obtaining 
secure possession of their lands. The reputation of 
Kentucky as in all respects one of the most desirable 
of earthly regions for comfortable homes, added to 
the desire of many families to escape from the 
horrors of revolutionary war, which was sweeping 
the seaboard, led to a constant tide of emigration 
beyond the mountains. 

Under these circumstances the Government of 
Virginia established a court, consisting of four 
prominent citizens, to go from place to place, 
examine such titles as should be presented to them, 
and to confirm those which were good. This com- 
mission commenced its duties at St. Asaphs. All 
the old terms of settlement proposed by Henderson 
and the Transylvania Company were abrogated. 
Thus Colonel Boone had no title to a single acre of 
land in Kentucky. A new law however was enacted 
as follows : 

" Any person may acquire title to so much unap- 
propriated land, as he or she may desire to purchase, 
on paying the consideration of forty pounds for every 
one hundred acres, and so in proportion." 

This money was to be paid to the State Treasurer, 
who would give for it a receipt. This receipt was to 
be deposited with the State Auditor, who would in 

19 



2l8 DANIEL BOONE. 

exchange for it give a certificate. This certificate 
was to be lodged at the Land Office. There it was 
to be registered, and a warrant was to be given, 
authorizing the survey of the land selected. Sur- 
veyors who had passed the ordeal of William and 
Mary College, having defined the boundaries of the 
land, were to make a return to the Land Office. A 
due record was there to be made of the survey, a deed 
was to be given in the name of the State, which deed 
was to be signed by the Governor, with the seal of the 
Commonwealth attached. 

This was a perplexing labyrinth for the pioneer to 
pass through, before he could get a title to his land. 
Not only Colonel Boone, but it seems that his family 
were anxious to return to the beautiful fields of 
Kentucky. During the few months he remained on 
the Yadkin, he was busy in converting every particle 
of property he possessed into money, and in raising 
every dollar he could for the purchase of lands he 
so greatly desired. The sum he obtained amounted 
to about twenty thousand dollars, in the depreciated 
paper currency of that day. To Daniel Boone this 
was a large sum. With this the simple-hearted 
man started for Richmond to pay it to the State 
Treasurer, and to obtain for it the promised certificate 
He was also entrusted with quite large sums of money 
from his neighbors, foi a similar purpose. 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 219 

On his way he was robbed of every dollar. It was 
a terrible blow to him, for it not only left him 
penniless, but exposed him to the insinuation of 
having feigned the robbery, that he might retain the 
money entrusted to him by his friends. Those who 
knew Daniel Boone well would have no more suspected 
him of fraud than an angel of light. With others 
however, his character suffered. Rumor was busy in 
denouncing him. 

Colonel Nathaniel Hart had entrusted Boone with 
two thousand nine hundred pounds. This of course 
was all gone. A letter, however, is preserved from 
Colonel Hart, which bears noble testimony to the 
character of the man from whom he had suffered ; 

" I observe what you say respecting our losses by 
Daniel Boone. I had heard of the misfortune so^ 
after it happened, but not of my being a partaker 
before now. I feel for the poor people who perhaps 
are to lose their pre-emptions. But I must say I feel 
more for Boone, whose character I am told suffers 
by it. Much degenerated must the people of this 
age be, when amongst them are to be found men to 
censure and blast the reputation of a person so just 
and upright, and in whose breast is a seat of virtue 
too pure to admit of a thought so base and dishonor- 
able. I have known Boone in times oi old, when 
poverty and distress had . him fast by the hand, and 



220 DANIEL BOONE. 

in these wretched circumstances, I have ever found 
him of a noble and generous soul, despising every* 
thing mean, and therefore I will freely grant him a 
discharge for whatever sums of mine he might have 
been possessed at the time." 

Boone was now forty-five years of age, but the 
nardships to which he had been exposed had borne 
heavily upon him, and he appeared ten years older. 
Though he bore without a murmur the loss of his 
earthly all, and the imputations which were cast upon 
his character, he was more anxious than ever to find 
refuge from the embarrassments which oppressed 
him in the solitudes of his beautiful Kentucky. 
Notwithstanding his comparative poverty, his family 
on the banks of the Yadkin need not experience any 
want. Land was fertile, abundant and cheap. He 
and his boys in a few days, with their axes, could 
erect as good a house as they desired to occupy. The 
cultivation of a few acres of the soil, and the results 
of the chase, would provide them an ample support 
Here also they could retire to rest at night, with 
unbolted door and with no fear that their slumbera 
would be disturbed by the yell of the blood-thirsty 
savage. 

The witc and mother must doubtless have wished 
to remain in her pleasant home, but cheerfully and 
nobly she acceded to his wishes, and was ready to 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 221 

accompany him to all the abounding perils of the 
distant West. Again the family set out on its jour- 
ney across the mountains. Of the incidents which 
they encountered, we are not informed. The narrative 
we have from Boone is simply as follows : our readers 
will excuse the slight repetition it involves : 

** About this time I returned to Kentucky with my 
family. And here, to avoid an enquiry into my 
conduct, the reader being before informed of my 
bringing my family to Kentucky, T am under the 
necessity of informing him that during my captivity 
with the Indians, my wife, who despaired of ever 
seeing me again, had transported my family and 
goods back through the wilderness, amid a multitude 
of dangers, to her father's house in North Carolina. 
Shortly after the troubles at Boonesborough, I went to 
them and lived peaceably there until this time. The 
history of my going home and returning with my 
family forms a series of difficulties, an account of 
which would swell a volume. And being foreign to 
my purpose I shall omit them." 

During Boone's absence from Kentuclcy, one of the 
most bloody battles was fought, which ever occurred 
between the whites and the Indians. Colonel Rogers, 
returning with supplies (by boat) from New Orleans 
to the Upper Ohio, when he arrived at the mouth of 
the Little Miami, detected the Indians in large 



222 DANIEL BOONE. 

numbers, painted, armed, and evidently on the waf 
path, emerging from the mouth of the river in theif 
canoes, and crossing the Ohio to the Kentucky shore. 
He cautiously landed his men, intending to attack the 
Indians by surprise. Instead of this, they turned upon 
him with overwhelming numbers, and assailed him 
with the greatest fury. Colonel Rogers and sixty of 
his men vv^ere almost instantly killed. This constituted 
nearly the whole of his party. Two or three effected 
their escape, and conveyed the sad tidings of the 
massacre to the settlements. 

The Kentuckians were exceedingly exasperated, 
and resolved that the Indians should feel the weight 
of their vengeance. Colonel Bowman, in accordance 
with a custom of the times, issued a call, inviting all 
the Kentuckians who were willing to volunteer under 
his leadership for the chastisement of the Indians, to 
rendezvous at Harrodsburg. Three hundred deter- 
mined men soon assembled. -The expedition moved 
in the month of July, and commenced the ascent of 
the Little Miami undiscovered. They arrived in the 
vicinity of Old Chilicothe just before nightfall. Here 
it was determined so to arrange their forces in the 
darkness, as to attack the place just before the dawn 
of the ensuing day. One half of the army, under the 
command of Colonel Logan, were to grope their way 
through the woods, and march around the town so as 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 223 

to attack it in the rear, at a given signal from 
Colonel Bowman, who was to place his men in position 
for efficient cooperation. Logan accomplished his 
movement, and concealing his men behind stumps» 
trees, and rocks, anxiously awaited the signal for 
attack. 

But the sharp ear of a watch-dog detected some 
unusual movement, and commenced barking furiously. 
An Indian warrior came from his cabin, and cautiously 
advanced the way the dog seemed to designate. As 
the Indian drew near, one of the party, by accident 
or great imprudence, discharged his gun. The Indian 
gave a war-whoop, which immediately startled all the 
inmates of the cabins to their feet. Logan and his 
party were sufficiently near to see the women and the 
children in a continuous line rushing over the ridge, 
to the protection of the forest. 

The Indian warriors instantly collected in several 
strong cabins, which were their citadels, and from 
whose loop-holes, unexposed, they could open a 
deadly fire upon their assailants. In an instant, the 
whole aspect of affairs was changed. The assailants 
advancing through the clearing, must expose their 
unprotected breasts to the bullets of an unseen foe 
After a brief conflict, Colonel Logan, to his bittef 
disappointment and that of his men, felt constrained 
to order a retreat 



224 DANIEL BOONE. 

The two parties were soon reunited, having lost 
several valuable lives, and depressed by the conviction 
that the enterprise had proved an utter failure. The 
savages pursued, keeping up a harassing fire upon the 
rear of the fugitives. Fortunately for the white men, 
the renowned Indian chieftain Blackfish, struck by 
a bullet, was instantly killed. This so disheartened 
his followers, that they abandoned the pursuit. The 
fugitives continued their flight all the night, and then 
at their leisure returned to their homes much dejected. 
In this disastrous expedition, nine men were killed 
and one was severely wounded. 

The Indians, aided by their English allies, resolved 
by the invasion of Kentucky to retaliate for the 
invasion of the Little Miami. Governor Hamilton 
raised a very formidable army, and supplied them 
with two pieces of artillery. By such weapons the 
strongest log fort could speedily be demolished; 
while the artillerists would be entirely beyond the 
reach of the guns of the garrison. A British officer, 
Colonel Boyd, commanded the combined force. The 
valley of the Licking River, along whose banks many 
thriving settlements had commenced, was their point 
of destination. 

A twelve days' march from the Ohio brought this 
anny, which was considered a large one in those times, 
to a post called Kuddle's Station. The garrison was 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 22$ 

Immediately summoned to surrender, with the promise 
of protection for their lives only. Resistance against: 
artillery was hopeless. The place was surrendered.. 
Indians and white men rushed in, alike eager for 
plunder. The Indians, breaking loose from all 
restraint, caught men, women and children, and 
claimed them as their prisoners. Three persons 
who made some slight resistance were immediately 
tomahawked. 

The British commander endeavored to exonerate 
himself from these atrocities by saying that it was 
utterly beyond his power to control the savages. 
These wolfish allies, elated by their conquest, their 
plunder and their captives, now demanded to be led 
along the valley five miles to the next station, called 
Martin's Fort. It is said that Colonel Byrd was so 
affected by the uncontrollable atrocities he had 
witnessed, that he refused to continue the expedition, 
unless the Indians would consent, that while they 
should receive all the plunder, he should have all the 
prisoners. It is also said that notwithstanding this 
agreement, the same scenes were enacted at Martin't 
Fort which had been witnessed at Ruddle's Station. 
In confirmation of this statement, it is certain that 
Colonel Byrd refused to go any farther. All the 
stations on the river vere apparently at his disposal,, 
and it speaks well for his humanity that he refused to 



226 DANIEL BOONE. 

lead any farther savages armed with the tomahawk 
and the scalping knife, against his white brethrea 
He could order a retreat, as he did, but he could not 
rescue the captives from those who had seized them. 
The Indians loaded down their victims with the 
plunder of their own dwellings, and as they fell by 
the way, sinking beneath their burdens, they buried 
the tomahawk in their brains. 

The exasperation on both sides was very great, 
and General Clark, who was stationed at Fort 
Jefferson with a thousand picked men, entered the 
Indian territory, burned the villages, destroyed the 
crops, and utterly devastated the country. In refer- 
ence to this expedition, Mr. Cecil B. Hartley writes : 

" Some persons who have not the slightest objection 
to war, very gravely express doubts as to whether the 
expedient of destroying the crops of the Indians was 
justifiable. It is generally treated by these men as if 
it were a wanton display of a vindictive spirit, 
where in reality it was dictated by the soundest 
policy ; for when the Indians' harvests were destroy- 
ed, they were compelled to subsist their families 
altogether by hunting, and had no leisure for their 
murderous inroads into the settlements. This result 
was plainly seen on this occasion, for it does not 
appear that the Indians attacked any of the settle- 
ments during the remainder of this year." 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 22/ 

The following incident, well authenticated, which 
occurred early in the spring of 1780, gives one a 
vivid idea of the nature of this warfare : 

" Mr. Alexander McConnel of Lexington, while out 
hunting, killed a large buck. He went home for 
his horse to bring it in. While he was absent, five 
Indians accidentally discovered the body of the deer. 
Supposing the hunter would return, three of them 
hid themselves within rifle shot of the carcass while 
two followed his trail. McConnel, anticipating no 
danger, was riding slowly along the path, when he 
was fired upon from ambush, his horse shot beneath 
him, and he seized as a prisoner. His captors were 
in high glee, and treated him with unusual kindness. 
His skill with the rifle excited their admiration, and 
as he provided them with abundance of game, they 
soon became quite fond of him. Day after day the 
savages continued their tramp to the Ohio river, to 
cross over to their own country. Every night they 
bound him very strongly. As they became better 
acquainted, and advanced farther from the settle- 
ments of the pioneers, they in some degree remitted 
their vigilance. One evening when they had arrived 
near the Ohio, McConnel complained so earnestly 0/ 
the pain which the tightly bound cords gave him, 
that they more loosely fastened the cord of bufialo 
hide around his wrists. Still they tied it, as they 



228 DANIEL BOONE. 

supposed securely, and attached the end of the cord 
to the body of one of the Indians. 

" At midnight, McConnel discovered a sharp knife 
lying near him, which had accidentally fallen from 
its sheat. He drew it to him with his feet, and suc- 
ceeded noiselessly in cutting the cords. Still he 
hardly dared to stir, for there was danger that the 
slightest movement might rouse his vigilant foes. 
The savages had stacked their five guns near the fire. 
Cautiously he crept towards them, and secreted three 
at but a short distance where they would not easily 
find them. He then crept noiselessly back, took a 
rifle in each hand, rested the muzzles upon a log, and 
aiming one at the heart, and one at the head of two 
Indians at the distance of a few feet, discharged both 
guns simultaneously. 

" Both shots were fatal. The three remaining savageb 
in bewilderment sprang to their feet. McConnel 
instantly seizing the two other guns, shot one through 
the heart, and inflicted a terrible wound upon the 
other. He fell to the ground bellowing loudly. Soon 
however he regained his feet and hobbled off into the 
woods as fast as possible. The only remaining one 
of the party who was unhurt uttered a loud yell of 
terror and dismay, and bounded like a deer into the 
forest. McConnel was not disposed to remain even 
for one moment to contemplate the result of his 



VICTORIES AND DEFEATS. 



229 



achievement. He selected his own trusty rifle, plunged 
into the forest, and with the unerring instinct of the 
veteran hunter, in two days reacned the garrison at 
Lexington to relate to them his wonderful escape." 




^•3^ 



CHAPTER X 
British Allies, 

Death of Squire Boone. — Indian Outrages. — Gerty and McGee. — 
Battle of Blue Lick. — Death of Isaac Boone. — Colonel Boone's 
Narrow Escape. — Letter of Daniel Boone. — Determination of 
General Clarke. — Discouragement of the Savages. — Amusing 
Anecdote of Daniel Boone. 

It was in the autumn of the year 1780 that Daniel 
Boone, with his family, returned to Boonesborough« 
A year before, the Legislature of Virginia had recog- 
nized essentially what is now Kentucky as one of the 
counties of Virginia, and had established the town of 
Boonesborough as its capital. By this act Daniel 
Boone was named one of the trustees or selectmen. 
Town lots were ordered to be surveyed, and a very 
liberal grant of land was conferred upon every one 
who would erect a house at least sixteen feet square, 
with either brick, stone, or dirt chimney. For some 
reason Colonel Boone declined this office. It is 
probable that he was disgusted by his own experience 
tn the civil courts. 

There was little danger now of an attack upon 
Boonesborough by the Indians. There were so many 
settlements around it that no foe could approach 

(230) 



BRITISH ALLIES. 23I 

Without due warning and without encountering serious 
opposition. On the sixth of October Daniel Boone, 
with his brother Squire, left the fort alone for what 
would seem to be an exceedingly imprudent excursion, 
50 defenceless, to the Blue Licks. They reached the 
Licks in safety. While there they were discovered by 
a party of Indians, and were fired upon from ambush. 
Squire Boone was instantly killed and scalped. Daniel, 
heart-stricken by the loss of his beloved b-other, fled 
like a deer, pursued by the whole band, filling the 
forest with their yells like a pack of hounds. The 
Indians had a very powerful dog with them, who, 
with unerring scent, followed closely in the trail of 
the fugitive. For three miles this unequal chase con- 
tinued. The dog, occasionally embarrassed in his 
pursuit, would be delayed for a time in regaining the 
trail. The speed of Boone was such that the foremost 
of the savages was left far behind. He then, as the 
dog came bounding on, stopped, took deliberate aim, 
and shot the brute. 

Boone was still far from the fort, but he reached it 
in safety, leaving upon the Indians the impression 
^at he bore a charmed life. He was very deeply 
afflicted by the death of his brother. Squire was the 
youngest of the sons, and the tie which bound the 
brothers together was unusually tender and confiden- 
tial. They had shared in many perilous adventures. 



232 DANIEL BOONE. 

and for months had dwelt entirely alone in the wilder* 
ness, far away from any other society. 

The winter of 1780 was one of the saddest in the 
annals of our country. The colonial army, every- 
where defeated, was in the most deplorable state of 
destitution and suffering. Our frontiers were most 
cruelly ravaged by a barbarian foe. To add to all 
this, the winter was severely cold, beyond any prece- 
dent. The crops had been so destroyed by the 
enemy that many of the pioneers were compelled to 
live almost entirely upon the flesh of the buffalo. 

Virginia, in extending her jurisdiction over her 
western lands of Kentucky, now, for the sake of a 
more perfect military organization, divided the exten- 
sive region into three counties — Fayette, Lincoln, 
and Jefferson. General Clarke was made commander- 
in-chief of the Kentucky militia. Daniel Boone was 
commissioned as Lieutenant-Colonel of Lincoln 
County. The emigration into the State at this time 
may be inferred from the fact that the Court of Com- 
missioners to examine land titles, at the close of its 
session of seven months had granted three thousand 
claims. Its meetings had been held mainly at 
Boonesborough, and its labors terminated in April, 
1780. During the spring three hundred barges, 
loaded with emigrants, were floated down the Ohia 
to the Falls, at what' is now Louisville. 



BRITISH ALLIES. 233 

As we have stated, the winter had been one of the 
most remarkable on record. From the middle of 
November to the middle of February, the ground was 
covered with snow and ice, without a thaw. The 
severity of the cold was terrible. Nearly all unpro- 
tected animals perished. Even bears, buffalo, wolves, 
and wild turkeys were found frozen in the woods. 
The starving wild animals often came near the settle- 
ment for food. For seventy-five years the winter of 
1780 was an era to which the old men referred. 

Though the Indians organized no formidable raids, 
they were very annoying. No one could safely wan- 
der any distance from the forts. In March, 1 78 1, 
several bands entered Jefferson County, and by lying 
in ambush killed four of the settlers. Captain Whit- 
taker, with fifteen men, went in pursuit of them. He 
followed their trail to the banks of the Ohio. Sup- 
posing they had crossed, he and his party embarked 
in canoes, boldly to continue the pursuit into the 
Indian country. They had scarcely pushed a rod 
from the shore when hideous yells rose from the 
Indians in ambush, and a deadly fire was opened 
upon the canoes Nine of the pioneers were instantly 
killed or wounded. The savages, having accom- 
plished this feat, fled into the wilderness, where the 
party, thus weakened in numbers, could not pursue 
them. 



234 DANIEL "BOONE. 

A small party of settlers had reared their log-huts 
near the present site of Shelbyville. Squire Boone 
had been one of the prominent actors in the estab- 
lishment of this little colony. Alarmed by the 
menaces of the savages, these few settlers decided to 
remove to a more secure station on Bear's Creek. 
On their way they were startled by the war-whoop of 
they knew not how many Indians concealed in am- 
bush, and a storm of bullets fell upon them, killing 
and wounding many of their number. The miscreants, 
scarcely waiting for the return fire, fled with yells 
which resounded through the forest, leaving their 
victims to the sad task of burying the dead and 
nursing the wounded. Colonel Floyd collected twen- 
ty-five men to pursue them The wary Indians, 
i:early two hundred in number, drew them into an 
ambush and opened upon the party a deadly fire 
which almost instantly killed half their number. The 
remainder with great difficulty escaped, leaving 
their dead to be mutilated by the scalping knife of 
the savage. 

Almost every day brought tidings of similar disas* 
ters. The Indians, emboldened by these successes, 
seemed to rouse themselves to a new determination 
to exterminate the whites. The conduct of the 
British Government, in calling such wretches to their 
alliance in theii war with the colonies, created th* 



BRITISH ALLIES. 235 

greatest exasperation. Thomas Jefferson gave ex- 
pression to the public sentiment in the Declaration of 
Independence, in which he says, in arraignment of 
King George the Third : 

** He has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of 
our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose 
known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruc- 
tion of all ages, sexes, and conditions." 

There were two wretched men, official agents of 
the British Government, who were more savage than 
the savages themselves. One of them, a vagabond 
named Simon Gerty, had joined the Indians by 
adoption. He had not only acquired their habits, 
but had become their leader in the most awful scenes 
of ferocity. He was a tory, and as such was the 
bitterest foe of the colonists, who were struggling for 
independence. The other. Colonel McGee, with a 
little more respectability of character, was equally 
fiendlike in exciting the Indians to the most revolting 
barbarities. Thus incited and sustained by British 
authority, the Indians kept all the settlers in Ken* 
tucky in constant alarm. 

Instigated by the authorities at Detroit, the wai- 
riors of five tribes assembled at Old Chiiicothe to 
organize the most formidable expedition which had 
as yet invaded Kentucky. These tribes were the 
Shawanese on the Little Miami, the Cherokees on the 



236 DANIEL BOONE. 

Tennessee, the Wyandot ts on the Sandusky^ the 
Tawas on the Maumee, and the Delawares on the 
Muskingum. 

Their choicest warriors, five hundred in number, 
rendezvoused at Old Chilicothe. This Indian village 
was built in the form of a square enclosing a large 
area. Some of their houses were of logs, some of 
bark, some of reeds filled in with clay. Boone says 
that the Indians concentrated their utmost force and 
vengeance upon this expedition, hoping to destroy 
the settlements and to depopulate the country at a 
single blow. 

Not far from Boonesborough, in the same valley 
of the Kentucky, there was a small settlement called 
Bryant's Station. William Bryant, the founder, had 
married a sister of Colonel Boone. On the fifteenth 
of August, a war party of five hundred Indians and 
Canadians, under the leadership of Simon Gerty, 
appeared before this little cluster of log-huts, each of 
which was of course bullet-proof. The settlers fought 
heroically. Gerty was wounded, and thirty of his 
band were killed, while the garrison lost but four. 
The assailing party, thus disappointed in their ex* 
pectation of carrying the place by storm, and fearing 
the arrival of reinforcements from other settlements, 
hastily retired. Colonel Boone, hearing of the attack, 
hastened to the rescue, joining troops from several (»^ 



BRITISH ALLIES. 237 

the adjacent forts. The party consisted of one hun- 
dred and eighty men, under the leadership of Colonel 
Todd, one of " nature's noblemen." Colonel Boone 
seems to have been second in command. Two of his 
sons, Israel and Samuel, accompanied their father 
upon this expedition. 

The Indians, led by British officers, were far more 
to be dreaded than when left to their own cunning, 
which was often childish. As the little band of 
pioneers, rushing to the rescue, approached Bryant's 
Station and were informed of the retreat of the 
invaders, a council of war was held, to decide whether 
it were best for a hundred and eighty men to pursue 
five hundred Indians and Canadians, through a region 
where every mile presented the most favorable oppor- 
tunities for concealment in ambush. Gerty was a 
desperado who was to be feared as well as hated. 
Contrary to the judgment of both Colonels Todd 
and Boone, it was decided to pursue the Indians. 
There was no difficulty in following the trail of so 
large a band, many of whom were mounted. Their 
path led almost directly north, to the Licking River, 
and then followed down its banks tov/ards the Ohio, 

As the pursuers were cautiously advancing, they 
came to a remarkable bend in the stream, where 
there was a large and open space, with prairie grass 
very high. A well trampled buffalo track led throuorh 



238 DANIEL BOONE. 

this grass, which was almost like a forest of reeds, 
Along this " street " the Indians had retreated. The 
scouts who had been sent forward to explore, returned 
with the report that there were no signs of Indians. 
And yet, four hundred savages had so adroitly con- 
cealed themselves, that their line really extended from 
bank to bank of the river, where it bent like a horse- 
shoe before them. The combined cunning of the 
Indian, and the intelligence of their white leaders, was 
now fatally enlisted for the destruction of the settlers. 
A hundred and eighty men were to be caught in a 
trap, with five hundred demons prepared to shoot them 
down. 

As soon as Colonel Todd's party passed the neck 
of this bend, the Indians closed in behind them, rose 
from their concealment, and with terrific yells opened 
upon them a still more terrific fire. The pioneers 
fought with the courage of desperation. At the first 
discharge, nearly one third of Colonel Todd's little 
party fell dead or wounded. Struck fatally by several 
bullets, Colonel Todd himself fell from his horse 
drenched with blood. While a portion of the Indians 
kept up the fire, others, with hideous yells sprang 
forward with tomahawk and scalping knife, completing 
their fiendlike work. It was a scene of awful con- 
fusion and dismay. The survivors fighting every step 
of the way, retreated towards the river, for there was 



BRITISH ALLIES. 239 

no er»cape back through their thronging foes. Co'onel 
Boone's two sons fought by the side of their father. 
Samuel, the younger, struck by a bullet, was severely 
biit not mortally wounded. Isaac, his second son, fell 
dead. The unhappy father took his dead boy upon 
his shoulders to save him from the scalping knife. 
As he tottered beneath the bleeding body, an Indian 
of herculean stature with uplifted tomahawk rushed 
upon him. Colonel Boone dropped the body of his 
son, shot the Indian through the heart, and seeing 
the savages rushing upon him from all directions, 
fled, leaving the corpse of his boy to its fate. 

Being intimately acquainted with the ground, he 
plunged into a ravine, baffling several parties who 
pursued him, swam across the river, and entering the 
forest succeeded in escaping from his foes, and at 
length safely by a circuitous route returned to Bryant's 
Station. In the meantime the scene of tumult and 
slaughter was awful beyond all description. Victors 
and vanquished were blended together upon the banks 
of the stream. In this dreadful conflict there were 
four Indians to each white man. There was a narrow 
ford at the spot, but the whole stream seemed clogged, 
some swimming and some trying to wade, while the 
exultant Indians shot and tomahawked without 
mercy. Those who succeeded in crossing the river, 
leaving the great buffalo track which they had been 



240 . DANIEL BOONE. 

following, plunged into the thickets, and though 
vigorously pursued by the Indians, most of them 
eventually reached the settlements. 

In this dreadful disaster, the colonists lost sixty 
men in killed and seven were taken prisoners. The 
Indians in counting up their loss, found that sixty- 
four were missing. In accordance with their barbaric 
custom, they selected in vengeance four of the pri- 
soners and put them to death by the most terrible 
tortures which savage ingenuity could devise. Had 
Colonel Boone's advice been followed, this calamity 
might have been avoided. Still characteristically, he 
uttered not a word of complaint. In his comments 
upon the event he says : 

" I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene but 
sorrow fils my heart. A zeal for the' defence of 
their country led these heroes to the scene of action, 
though with a few men to attack a powerful army of 
experienced warriors. When we gave way, they 
pursued us with the utmost eagerness, and in every 
quarter spread destruction. The river was difficult 
to cross, and many were killed in the flight ; some 
just entering the river, some in the water, others after 
crossing, in ascending the clifis. Some escaped on 
horseback, a few on foot ; and being dispersed every- 
where in a few hours, brought the melancholy news 
of this unfortunate conflict to Lexington. The readei 



BRITISH ALLIES. 24I 

may guess what sorrow filled the hearts of the 
inhabitants ; exceeding anything I am able to des- 
cribe. Being reinforced we returned to bury the 
dead, and found their bodies strewed everywhere, 
cut and mangled in a dreadful manner. This mourn- 
ful scene exhibited a horror almost unparalleled ; 
some torn and eaten by wild beasts ; those in the 
river eaten by fishes ; all in such a putrified condition 
that no one could be distinguished from another." 

This battle of the Blue Licks, as it is called, 
occupies one of the most mournful pages in the history 
of Kentucky. The escape of Boone adds another to 
the extraordinary adventures of this chivalric and 
now sorrow-stricken man. Colonel Boone communi- 
cated an official report to the Governor of Virginia, 
Benjamin Harrison, father of William Henry Harri- 
son, subsequently President of the United States. 
In this report, it is noticeable that Boone makes no 
allusion whatever to his own services. This modest 
document throws such light upon the character of 
this remarkable man, and upon the peril of the 
times, that it merits full insertion here. It is as 
follows : 

" Boone's Station, Fayette Co., Aug. 30, 1782. 

" Sir, — Present circumstances of affairs cause me to 

write to Your Excellency, as follows : On the 
21 



242 DANIEL BOONE. 

sixteenth instant, a large body of Indians, with some 
white men, attacked one of our frontier stations, 
known as Bryant's Station. The siege continued 
from about sunrise until two o'clock of the next day, 
when they marched off. Notice being given to the 
neighboring stations, we immediately raised one hun- 
dred and eighty-one horsemen, commanded by CoL 
John Todd, including some of the Lincoln County 
militia, and pursued about forty miles." 

After a brief account of the battle which we have 
already given, he continues : 

" Afterwards we were reinforced by Colonel Logan, 
which made our force four hundred and sixty men. 
We marched again to the battle ground, but finding 
the enemy had gone, we proceeded to bury the dead. 
We found forty-three on the ground, and many lay 
about which we could not stay to find, hungry and 
weary as we were, and dubious that the enemy might 
not have gone off quite. By the sign, we thought 
that the Indians exceeded four hundred, while the 
whole of the militia of the county does not amount to 
more than one hundred and thirty. 

" From these facts, Your Excellency may form an 
idea of our situation. I know that your own circum- 
stances are critical ; but are we to be wholly forgotten ? 
I hope not. I trust that about five hundred men may 
be sent to our assistance immediately. If these shall 



BRITISH ALLIES. 243 

be stationed as our county lieutenant shall deem 
necessary, it may be the means of saving our part of 
,the country. But if they are placed under the direc- 
tion of General Clarke, they will be of little or no 
service to our settlement. The Falls lie one hundred 
miles west of us, and the Indians north-east ; while 
our men are frequently called to protect them. 

" I have encouraged the people in this county all 
that I could ; but I can no longer justify them or 
myself to risk our lives here, under such extraordinary 
hazards. The inhabitants of this county are very 
much alarmed at the thoughts of the Indians bringing 
another campaign into our country this fall. If this 
should be the case, it will break up these settlements. 
I hope therefore that Your Excellency will take the 
matter into your consideration, and send us some 
relief as quick as possible. These are my sentiments 
without consulting any person. Colonel Logan will 
I expect immediately send you an express, by whom 
I humbly request Your Excellency's answer. In the 
meantime, I remain yours, &c., Daniel Boone." 

General Clarke, who was the military leader of 
Kentucky under the Colonial government, was estab- 
lished at the Falls. The British authorities held their 
head-quarters at Detroit, from which post they were 
sending out their Indian allies in all directions to 
ravage the frontiers. General Clarke was a man of 



244 DANIEL BOONE. 

great energy of character, and he was anxious to 
organise an expedition against Detroit With this 
object in view, he had by immense exertions assem- 
bled a force of nearly two thousand men. Much to 
his chagrin, he received orders to remain at the Falls 
for the present, to protect the frontiers then so se- 
verely menaced. But when the tidings reached him 
of the terrible disaster at the Blue Lick, he resolved to 
pursue the Indians and punish them with the greatest 
severity. 

The exultant savages had returned to Old Chili- 
cothe, and had divided their spoil and their captives. 
Colonel Boone was immediately sent for to take part 
in this expedition. Clarke's army crossed the Ohio, 
and marching very rapidly up the banks of the Little 
Miami, arrived within two miles of Chilicothe before 
they were discovered. On perceiving the enemy the 
Indians scattered in all directions. Men, women and 
children fled into the remote forest, abandoning their 
homes and leaving everything behind them. The 
avenging army swept the valley with fire and ruin. 
Their corn just ripening, and upon which they mainly 
relied for their winter supply of food, was utterly des- 
troyed. Every tree which bore any fruit was felled, 
and five of their towns were laid in ashes. The trail 
of the army presented a scene of utter desolation. 

The savages were alike astonished and dismayed. 



BRITISH ALLIES. 245 

They had supposed that the white men, disheartened 
by their dreadful defeat at the Blue Lick, would 
abandon the country. Instead of that, with amazing 
recuperative power, they had scarcely reached their 
homes ere another army, utterly resistless in numbers, 
is burning their towns and destroying their whole 
country. 

This avenging campaign so depressed the Indians 
that they made no farther attempt for the organised 
invasion of Kentucky. The termination of the war 
with England also deprived them of their military 
resources, and left them to their own unaided and 
unintelligent efforts. Still miserable bands continued 
prowling around, waylaying and murdering the lonely 
traveler, setting fire to the solitary hut and inflicting 
such other outrages as were congenial with their cruel 
natures. It thus became necessary for the pioneers 
always to live with the rifle in hand. 

Colonel Boone had become especially obnoxious to 
the Indians. Twice he had escaped from them, under 
circumstances which greatly mortified their vanity. 
They recognised the potency of his rifle in the 
slaughter of their own warriors at the Blue Lick ; and 
they were well aware that it was his sagacity which 
led the army of General Clarke in its avenging march 
through their country. It thus became with them an 
object of intense desire to take him prisoner, and had 



24^ DANIEL BOONE. 

he been taken, he would doubtless have been doomed 
to the severest torture they could inflict. 

Mr. Peck, in his interesting life of Boone, gives the 
following account of one of the extraordinary adven- 
tures of this man, which he received from the lips of 
Colonel Boone himself. On one occasion, four Indians 
suddenly appeared before his cabin and took him 
prisoner. Though the delicacy of Colonel Boone's 
organization was such, that he could never himself 
relish tobacco in any form, he still raised some for his 
friends and neighbors, and for what were then deemed 
the essential rites of hospitality. 

" As a shelter for curing the tobacco, he had built 
an enclosure of rails a dozen feet in height and 
covered with canes and grass. Stalks of tobacco are 
generally split and strung on sticks about four feet in 
length. The ends of these are laid on poles placed 
across the tobacco house, and in tiers one above 
another, to the roof. Boone had fixed his temporary 
shelter in such a manner as to have three tiers. He 
had covered the lower tier and the tobacco had become 
dry ; when he entered the shelter for the purpose of 
removing the sticks to the upper tier, preparatory to 
gathering the remainder of the crop. He had hoisted 
up the sticks from the lower to the second tier, and 
was standing on the poles which supported it, while 
raising the sticks to the upper tier, when four stout 



BRITISH ALLIES. 247 

Indians, with guns, entered the low door and called 
him by name. 

" * Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away more. 
We carry you off to Chilicothe this time. You no 
cheat us anymore.* 

" Boone looked down upon their upturned faces^ 
saw their loaded guns pointed at his breast, and 
recognising some of his old friends the Shawanese, 
who had made him prisoner near the Blue Licks in 
1778, coolly and pleasantly responded ; 

" * Ah, old friends, glad to see you.' 

** Perceiving that they manifested impatience to 
have him come down, he told them he was quite 
willing to go with them, and only begged that they 
would wait where they were, and watch him closely 
until he could finish removing the tobacco. 

" While thus parleying with them, Boone inquired 
earnestly respecting his old friends in Chilicothe. He 
continued for some time to divert the attention of 
these simple-minded men, by allusions to past events 
with which they were familiar, and by talking of his 
tobacco, his mode of curing it, and promising them 
an abundant supply. With their guns in their hands 
however, they stood at the door of the shed, grouped 
closely together so as to render his escape apparently 
impossible. In the meantime Boone carefully gathered 
his arms full of the long, dry tobacco leaves, filled 



248 DANIEL BOONE. 

with pungent dust, which would be blinding and 
stifling as the most powerful snuff, and then with a 
leap from his station twelve feet high, came directly 
upon their heads, filling their eyes and nostrils, and so 
bewildering and disabling them for the moment, that 
they lost all self-possession and all self-control. 

" Boone, agile as a deer, darted out at the door, and 
in a moment was in his bullet-proof log-hut, which to 
him was an impregnable citadel. Loop-holes guarded 
every approach. The Indians could not shew them- 
selves without exposure to certain death. They 
were too well acquainted with the unerring aim of 
Boone's rifle to venture within its range. Keeping 
the log cabin between them and their redoubtable 
foe, the baffled Indians fled into the wilderness. 

" Colonel Boone related this adventure with great 
glee, imitating the gestures of the bewildered Indians. 
He said that notwithstanding his narrow escape, he 
could not resist the temptation, as he reached the door 
of his cabin, to look around to witness the effect of 
his achievement. The Indians coughing, sneezing, 
blinded and almost suffocated by the tobacco dust, 
were throwing out their arms and groping about in 
all directions, cursing him for a rogue and calling 
themselves fools.** 



CHAPTER XI. 
Kentucky organized as a State, 

Peace with England. — Order of a Kentucky Court. — Anecdotes.— 
Speech of Mr. Daltou. — Reply of Piankashaw. — Renewed Indi 
Ofttlons of Indian Hostility — Conventions at Danville. — Ken- 
toeky formed into a State. — New Trials for Boone. 

The close of the war of the Revolution, bringing 
peace between the colonies and the mother country, 
deprived the Indians of that powerful alliance which 
had made them truly formidable. Being no longer 
able to obtain a supply of ammunition from the 
British arsenals, or to be guided in their murderous 
raids by British intelligence, they also, through their 
chiefs, entered into treaties of peace with the rapidly- 
increasing emigrants. 

Though these treaties with the Indians prevented 
any general organization of the tribes, vagabond In- 
dians, entirely lawless, were wandering in all direc- 
tions, ever ready to perpetrate any outrage. Civil 
society has its highway robbers, burglars and mur- 
derers. Much more so was this the case among these 
savages, exasperated by many wrongs ; for it cannot 
be denied that they were more frequently sinner J 

(240) 



250 DANIEL BOONEi 

against than sinning. Tlieir untutored natures made 
but little distinction between the innocent and the 
guilty. If a vagabond white man wantonly shot an . 
Indian — and many were as ready to do it as to shoot 
a wolf — the friends of the murdered Indian would take 
revenge upon the inmates of the first white man's 
cabin they encountered in the wilderness. Thus it 
was necessary for the pioneers to be constantly upon 
their guard. If they wandered any distance from 
the fort while hunting, or were hoeing in the field, or 
ventured to rear a cabin on a fertile meadow at a dis- 
tance from the stations, they were liable to be startled 
at any hour of the day or of the night by the terrible 
war-whoop, and to feel the weight of savage vengeance. 
This exposure to constant peril influenced the set- 
tlers, as a general rule, to establish themselves in 
stations. This gave them companionship, the benefits 
of co-operative labor, and security against any small 
prowling bands. These stations were formed upon 
the model of the one which Daniel Boone had so 
wisely organized at Boonesborough. They consisted 
of a cluster of bullet-proof log- cabins, arranged in a 
quadrangular form, so as to enclose a large internal 
area. All the doors opened upon this interior space. 
Here the. cattle were gathered at night. The inter- 
vals between the cottages were filled with palisades, • 
also bullet-proof. Loop-holes through the logs 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 251 

enabled these riflemen to guard every approach tc 
their fortress. Thus they had Httle to fear from the 
Indians when sheltered by these strong citadels. 

Emigration to Kentucky began very rapidly to 
increase. Large numbers crossed the mountains to 
Pittsburgh, where they took flat boats and floated 
down the beautiful Ohio, la belle rivikre, until they 
reached such points on its southern banks as pleased 
them for a settlement, or from which they could 
ascend the majestic rivers of that peerless State, 
Comfortable homesteads were fast rising in all direc- 
tions. Horses, cattle, swine, and poultry of all kinds 
were multiplied. Farming utensils began to make 
their appearance. The hum of happy industry was 
heard where wolves had formerly howled and buffalo 
ranged. Merchandise in considerable quantities was 
transported over the mountains on pack horses, and 
then floated down the Ohio and distributed among 
the settlements upon its banks. Country stores arose, 
land speculators appeared, and continental paper 
money became a circulating medium. This money, 
however, was not of any very great value, as may be 
inferred from the following decree, passed by one of 
the County Courts, establishing the schedule of prices 
for tavern-keeping : 

" The Court doth set the following rates to be ob- 
served by keepers in <-his county : Whiskey, fifteen 



252 DANIEL BOONE. 

dollars the half-pint ; rum, ten dollars the gallon ; a 
tneal, twelve dollars ; stabling or pasturage, four 
dollars the night. 

Under these changed circumstances, Colonel Boone, 
w'hose mtrepidity nothing could daunt, and whose 
confidence in the protective power of his rifle was 
unbounded, had reared for himself, on one of the 
beautiful meadows of the Kentucky, a commodious 
home. He had selected a spot whose fertility and 
loveliness pleased his artistic eye. 

It is estimated that during the years 1783 and 1784 
nearly twelve thousand persons emigrated to Ken- 
tucky. Still all these had to move with great caution, 
with rifles always loaded, and ever on the alert against 
surprise. The following incident will give the reader 
an idea of the perils and wild adventures encountered 
by these parties in their search for new and distant 
homes. 

Colonel Thomas Marshall, a man of much note, 
crossed the AUeghanies with his large family. At 
Pittsburgh he purchased a flat-boat, and was floating 
down the Ohio. He had passed the mouth of the 
Kanawha River without any incident of note occurring. 
About ten o'clock one night, as his toat had drifted 
near the northern shore of the solitary stream, he was 
hailed by a man upon the bank, who, after inquiring 
who he was, where he was bound, etc., added : 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 253 

" I have been posted here by order of my brother, 
Simon Gerty, to warn all boats of the danger of per- 
mitting themselves to be decoyed ashore. My brother 
regrets very deeply the injury he has inflicted upon 
the white men, and to convince them of the sincei ity 
of his repentance, and of his earnest desire to be re- 
stored to their society, he has stationed me here to 
warn all boats of the snares which are spread for them 
by the cunning of the Indians. Renegade white men 
will be placed upon the banks, who will represent 
themselves as in the greatest distress. Even children 
taken captive will be compelled, by threats of torture, 
to declare that they are all alone upon the shore, and 
to entreat the boats to come and rescue them. 

" But keep in the middle of the river," said Gerty, 
" and steel your heart against any supplications you 
may hear." 

The Colonel thanked him for his warning, and con- 
tinued to float down the rapid current of the stream. 

Virginia had passed a law establishing the town of 
Louisville, at the Falls of the Ohio. A very thriv- 
ing settlement soon sprang up there. 

The nature of the warfare still continuing between 
the whites and the Indians may be inferred from the 
following narrative, which we give in the words of 
Colonel Boone : 

** The Indians continued to practice mischief secretly 

28 



254 DANIEL BOONE. 

upon the inhabitants in the exposed part of the 
country. In October a party made an incursion into 
a district called Crab Orchard. One of these Indiana 
having advanced some distance before the others, 
boldly entered the house of a poor defenseless family, 
in which was only a negro man, a woman and her 
children, terrified with apprehensions of immediate 
death. The savage, perceiving their defenseless con- 
dition, without offering violence to the family, 
attempted to capture the negro, who happily proved 
an over-match for him, and threw the Indian on the 
ground. 

" In the struggle, the mother of the children drew an 
axe from the corner of the cottage and cut off the 
head of the Indian, while her little daughter shut the 
door. The savages soon appeared, and applied their 
tomahawks to the door. An old rusty gun-barrel, 
without a lock, lay in the corner, which the mother 
put through a small crevice, and the savages per- 
ceiving it, fled. In the meantime the alarm spread 
tHrough the neighborhood ; the armed men collected 
immediately and pursued the savages into the wilder- 
ness. Thus Providence, by means of this negro^ 
saved the whole of the poor family from destruction." 

The heroism of Mrs. Merrill is worthy of being 
perpetuated, not only as a wonderful achievement, but 
as illustrative of the nature of this dreadful warfare* 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 255 

Mr. Merrill, with his wife, little son and daughter, 
occupied a remote cabin in Nelson County, Kentucky. 
On the 24th of December, 1 791, he was alarmed by the 
barking of his dog. Opening the door to ascertain the 
cause, he was instantly fired upon by seven or eight 
Indians who had crept near the house secreting them- 
selves behind stumps and trees. Two bullets struck 
him, fracturing^ the bones both of his leg and of his 
arm. The savages, with hideous yells, then rushed for 
the door. 

Mrs. Merrill had but just time to close and bolt it 
when the savages plunged against it and hewed it 
with their tomahawks. Every dwelling was at that 
time a fortress whose log walls were bullet proof. 
But for the terrible wounds which Mr. Merrill had 
received, he would with his rifle shooting through loop 
holes, soon have put the savages to flight. They, 
emboldened by the supposition that he was killed, cut 
away at the door till they had opened a hole suffi- 
ciently large to crawl through. One of the savages 
attempted to enter. He had got nearly in when Mrs. 
Merrill cleft his skull with an ax, and he Jell lifeless 
upon the floor. Another, supposing that he had safely 
effected an entrance, followed him and encountered 
the same fate. Four more of the savages were in this 
way despatched, when the others, suspecting that all 
was not right, climbed upor the roof and two of them 



256 DANIEL BOONE. 

endeavored to descend through the chimney. The 
noise they made directed the attention of the inmates 
of the cabin to the new danger. 

There was a gentle fire burning upon the hearth. 
Mr. Merrill, with much presence of mind, directed his 
son, while his wife guarded the opening of the door 
with her ax, to empty the contents of a feather bed 
upon the fire. The dense smothering smoke filled the 
flue of the chimney. The two savages, sufi"ocated with 
the fumes, after a few convulsive efforts to ascend fell 
almost insensible down upon the hearth. Mr. Merrill, 
seizing with his unbroken arm a billet of wood, des- 
patched them both. But one of the Indians now 
remained. Peering in at the opening in the door he 
received a blow from the ax of Mrs. Merrill which 
severely wounded him. Bleeding and disheartened he 
fled alone into the wilderness, the only one of the eight 
who survived the conflict. 

A white man who was at that time a prisoner 
among the Indians and who subsequently effected his 
escape, reported that when the wounded savage 
reached his tribe he said to the white captive in 
broken English : 

" I have bad news for the poor Indian. Me lose a 
son me lose a broder. The squaws have taken the 
breech clout, and fight worse than the long knives." 

But the Indians were not always the aggressors. 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 257 

Indeed it is doubtful whether they would ever have 
raised the war-whoop against the white man, had it 
not been fcr the outrages they were so constantly ex- 
periencing from unprincipled and vagabond adven- 
turers, who were ever infesting the frontiers. The 
following incident illustrates the character and conduct 
of these miscreants : 

A party of Indian hunters from the South wandering 
through their ancient hunting grounds of Kentucky, 
accidentally came upon a settlement where they found 
several horses grazing in the field. They stole the 
horses, and commenced a rapid retreat to their own 
country. Three young men, Davis, Caffre and 
McClure, pursued them. Not being able to overtake 
the fugitives, they decided to make reprisals on the 
first Indians they should encounter. It so happened 
that they soon met three Indian hunters. The parties 
saluted each other in a friendly manner, and proceeded 
on their way in pleasant companionship. 

The young men said that they observed the Indians 
conversing with one another in low tones of voice, and 
thus they became convinced that the savages medi- 
tated treachery. Resolving to anticipate the Indians' 
attack, they formed the following plan. While 
walking together in friendly conversation, the Indians 
being entirely off their guard, Caffre, who was a very 
powerful man, was to spring upon the lightest of thr 



258 DANIEL BOONE. 

Indians, crush him to the ground, and thus take him 
a prisoner. At the same instant, Davis and McClure 
were each to shoot one of the other Indians, who, 
being thus taken by surprise, could offer no resistance. 

The signal was given. Caffre sprang upon his 
victim and bore him to the ground. McClure shot 
his man dead. Davis' gun flashed in the pan. The 
Indian thus narrowly escaping death immediately 
aimed his gun at Caffre, who was struggling with the 
one he had grappled, and instantly killed him. Mc- 
Clure in his turn shot the Indian. There was now one 
Indian and two white men. But the Indian had the 
loaded rifle. McClure's was discharged and Davis' 
missed fire. The Indian, springing from the grasp of 
his dying antagonist, presented his rifle at Davis, who 
immediately fled, hotly pursued by the Indian. Mc- 
Clure, stopping only to reload his gun, followed after 
them. Soon he lost sight of both. Davis was never 
heard of afterwards. Doubtless he was shot by the 
avenging Indian, who returned to his wigwam with 
the white man's scalp. 

McClure, after this bloody fray, being left alone in 
the wilderness, commenced a return to his distant 
home. He had not proceeded far before he met an 
Indian on horseback accompanied by a boy on foot. 
The warrior dismounted, and in token of peace offered 
McClure his pipe As they were seated together upon 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 259 

a log, conversing, McClure said that the Indian in- 
formed him by signs that there were other Indians in 
the distance who would soon come up, and that then 
they should take him captive, tie his feet beneath the 
horse's belly and carry him off to their village 
McClure seized his gun, shot the Indian through the 
heart, and plunging into the forest, effected his escape. 

About this same time Captain James Ward, with a 
party of half a dozen white men, one of whom was his 
nephew, and a number of horses, was floating down 
the Ohio River from Pittsburgh. They were in a 
flat boat about forty-five feet long and eight feet wide. 
The gunwale of the boat consisted of but a single pine 
plank. It was beautiful weather, and for several days 
they were swept along by the tranquil stream, now 
borne by the changing current towards the one shore, 
and now towards the other. One morning when they 
had been swept by the stream within about one 
hundred and fifty feet of the northern shore, suddenly 
several hundred Indians appeared upon the bank, and 
uttering savage yells opened upon them a terrible 
fire. 

Captain Ward's nephew, pierced by a ball in the 
breast, fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Every 
horse was struck by a bullet. Some were instantly 
killed ; others, severely wounded, struggled so violently 
as to cause the trail bark to dip water, threatening 



260 DAMEL BOONE. 

immediate destruction. All the crew except Captain 
Ward were so panic-stricken by this sudden assault, 
that they threw themselves flat upon their faces in the 
bottom of the boat, and attempted no resistance where 
even the exposure of a hand would be the target for 
a hundred rifles. 

Fortunately Captain Ward was protected from this 
shower of bullets by a post, which for some purpose 
had been fastened to the gunwale. He therefore 
retained his position at the helm, which was an oar, 
striving to guide the boat to the other side of the 
river. As the assailants had no canoes, they could 
not attempt to board, but for more than an hour they 
ran along the banks yelling and keeping up an almost 
constant fire. At length the boat was swept to the 
other side of the stream, when the miscreants aban- 
doned the pursuit, and disappeared. 

Quite a large party of emigrants were attacked by 
the Indians near what is now called Scagg's Creek, 
and six were instantly killed. A Mrs, McClure, 
delirious with terror, fled she knew not where, fol- 
lowed by her three little children and carrying a little 
babe in her arms. The cries of the babe guided the 
pursuit of the Indians. They cruelly tomahawked 
the three oldest children, and took the mother and 
the babe as captives. Fortunately the tidings ot this 
outrage speedily reached one oi the settlements. 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 26l 

Captain Whitley immediately started in pursuit of the 
ghfig. He overtook them, killed two, wounded two, 
and rescued the captives. Such were the scenes 
enacted during a period of nominal peace with the 
Indians. 

There has been transmitted to us a very curious 
document, giving an account of a speech made by 
Mr. Dalton, a Government agent, to a council of 
Indian chiefs, upon the announcement of peace with 
Great Britain, and their reply. Mr. Dalton said : 

" My Children, — What I have often told you is 
now come to pass. This day I received news from 
my great chief at the Falls of the Ohio. Peace is 
made with the enemies of America. The white flesh, 
the Americans, French, and Spanish, this day smoked 
out of the peace-pipe. The tomahawk is buried, and 
they are now friends. I am told the Shawanese, the 
Delawares, Chickasaws, Cherokees, and all other red 
flesh, have taken the Long Knife by the hand. They 
have given up to them the prisoners that were in their 
hands. 

" My children on the Wabash, open your ears and 
let what I tell you sink into your hearts. You know 
me. Near twenty years I have been among you. 
The Long Knife is my nation. I know their hearts; 
Peace they carry in one hand and war in the other. 
I leave you to yourselves to judge. Consider and 



262 DANIEL BOONE. 

tiow accept the one or the other. We never beg 
peace of our enemies. If you love your women and 
children, receive the belt of wampum I present you. 
Return me my flesh you have in your villages, and 
the horses you stole from my people in Kentucky. 
Your corn-fields were never disturbed by the Long 
Knife. Your women and children lived quiet in their 
houses, while your warriors were killing and robbing 
ny people. All this you know is the truth. 

" This is the last time I shall speak to you. I have 
waited six moons to hear you speak and to get my 
people from you. In ten nights I shall leave the 
Wabash to see my great chief at the Falls of the 
Ohio, where he will be glad to hear from your own 
lips what you have to say. Here is tobacco I give 
you. Smoke and consider what I have said." 

Mr. Dalton then presented Piankashaw, the chief 
of the leading tribe, with a belt of blue and white 
wampum. Piankashaw received the emblem of peace 
with much dignity, and replied : 

"My Great Father the Long Knife, — You 
have been many years among us. You have suffered by 
us. We still hope you will have pity and compassion 
upon us, on our women and children. The sun shines on 
us, and the good news of peace appears in our faces. 
This is the d ly of joy to the Wabash Indians. With om 
tongue we now speak. We accept your peace-belt. 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 263 

*We received the tomahawk from the English. 
Poverty forced us to it. We were followed by other 
tribes. We are sorry for it. To-day we collect the 
scattered bones of our friends and bury them in one 
grave. We thus plant the tree of peace, that God 
may spread its branches so that we can all be secured 
from bad weather. Here is the pipe that gives us 
joy. Smoke out of it. Our warriors are glad you 
are the man we present it to. We have buried the 
tomahawk, have formed friendship never to be 
broken, and now we smoke out of your pipe. 

"My father, we know that the Great Spirit was 
angry with us for stealing your horses and attacking 
your people. He has sent us so much snow and cold 
weather as to kill your horses with our own. We are 
a poor people. We hope God will help us, and that 
the Long Knife will have compassion on our women 
and children. Your people who are with us are welL 
We shall collect them when they come in from hunt- 
ing. All the prisoners taken in Kentucky are alive. 
We love them, and so do our young women. Some 
of your people mend our guns, and others tell us they 
can make rum out of corn. They are now the same 
as we. In one moon After this we will take them 
back to their friends in Kentucky. 

" My father, this being the day of joy to the Wa- 
bash Indians, we beg a little drop of your milk to let 



264 DANIEL BOONE. 

our warriors sec that it came from your own breast 
We were born and raised in the woods. We could 
never learn to make rum. God has made the white 

men masters of the world." 

Having finished his speech, Piankashaw presented 
Mr. Dalton with three strings of blue and white 
wampum as the seal of peace. All must observe the 
strain of despondency which pervades this address, 
and it is melancholy to notice the imploring tones 
with which the chief asks for rum, the greatest curse 
which ever afflicted his people. 

The incessant petty warfare waged between vagrant 
bands of the whites and the Indians, with the outrages 
perpetrated on either side, created great exasperation. 
In the year 1784 there were many indications that 
the Indians were again about to combine in an attack 
upon the settlements. These stations were widely 
scattered, greatly exposed, and there were many of 
them. It was impossible for the pioneers to rally 
in sufficient strength to protect every position. The 
savages, emerging unexpectedly from the wilderness, 
could select their own point of attack, and could thus 
cause a vast amount of loss and misery. For a long 
time it had been unsafe for any individual, or even 
small' parties, unless very thoroughly armed, to wan- 
der beyond the protection of the forts. Under these 
circumstances, a convention was held of the leading 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE, ^5 

men of Kentucky at the Danville Station, to decide 
what measures to adopt in view of the threatened 
invasion. It was quite certain that the movement of 
the savages would be so sudden and impetuous that 
the settlers would be compelled to rely mainly upon 
their own resources. 

The great State of Virginia, of which Kentucky 
was but a frontier portion, had become rich and pow- 
erful. But many weary leagues intervened, leading 
through forests and over craggy mountains, between 
the plains of these distant counties and Richmond, 
the capital of Virginia. The convention at Danville 
discussed the question whether it were not safer for 
them to anticipate the Indians, and immediately to 
send an army for the destruction of their towns and 
crops north of the Ohio. But here they were embar- 
rassed by the consideration that they had no legal 
power to make this movement, and that the whole 
question, momentous as it was and demanding im- 
mediate action, must be referred to the State Govern- 
ment, far away beyond the mountains. This involved 
long delay, and it could hardly be expected that the 
members of the General Court in their peaceful homes 
would fully sympathize with the unprotected settlers 
m their exposure to the tomahawk and the scalping 

knite. 

Several conventions were held, and the question 

2S 



266 DANIEL BOONE. 

was earnestly discussed whether the interests ol 
Kentucky did not require her separation from the 
Government of Virginia, and her organization as a 
self-governing State. The men who had boldly ven- 
tured to seek new homes so far beyond the limits of 
civilization were generally men of great force of 
character and of political foresight. They had just 
emerged from the war of the Revolution, during 
which all the most important questions of civil polity 
had been thoroughly canvassed. Their meetings 
were conducted with great dignity and calm deliber- 
ation. 

On the twenty-third of May, 1785, the convention 
at Danville passed the resolve with great unanimity 
that Kentucky ought to be separated from Virginia, 
and received into the American Union, upon the same 
basis as the other States. Still that they might not 
act upon a question of so much importance without 
due deliberation, they referred the subject to another 
convention to be assembled at Danville in August. 
This convention reiterated the resolution of its prede- 
cessor ; issued a proclamation urging the people every- 
where to organise for defence against the Indians, and 
appointed a delegation of two members to proceed to 
Richmond, and present their request for a separation 
lo the authorities there. 

*' The Legislature of Virginia was composed of men 



KENTUCKY AS A STATK 26/ 

too wise not to see that separation was inevitable 
Separated from the parent State by distance and by 
difficulties of communication, in those days most for- 
taidable, they saw that Kentuckians would not long 
submit to be ruled by those whose power was so far 
removed as to surround every approach to it with the 
greatest embarrassment. It was, without its wrongs, 
and tyranny and misgovernment, the repetition of the 
circumstances of the Crown and Colonies ; and with 
good judgment, and as the beautiful language of the 
Danville convention expressed it, with sole intent to 
bless its people, they agreed to a dismemberment of 
its part, to secure the happiness of the whole." * 

It is not important here to enter into a detail of the 
various discussions which ensued. It is sufficient to 
say that the communication from Kentucky to the 
Legislature of Virginia was referred to the illustrious 
John Marshall, then at the commencement of his 
distinguished career. He gave to the request of the 
petitioners his own strong advocacy. The result waa^ 
that a decree was passed after tedious delays, au- 
thorising the formal separation of Kentucky from 
Virginia. On the fourth of February, 1791, the new 
State, by earnest recommendation of George Wash- 
ington, was admitted into the American Unioa 



• Daniel Boone, by W. H. Bofut 



268 DANIEL BOONE. 

It does not appear that Colonel Boone was a 
member of any of these conventions. He had no taste 
for the struggles in political assemblies. He dreaded 
indeed the speculator, the land jobber, and the intri- 
cate decisions of courts, more than the tomahawk of 
the Indian. And he knew full well that should che 
hour of action come, he would be one of the first to be 
summoned to the field. While therefore ot.Aers of the 
early pioneers were engaged in these important deli- 
berations, he was quietly pursuing those occupations, 
congenial to his tastes, of cultivating the farm, or in 
hunting game in the solitude of the forests. His 
humble cabin stood upon the banks of the Kentucky 
River, not far from the station at Boonesborough. 
And thoroughly acquainted as he was with the habits 
of the Indians, he felt quite able, in his bullet-proof 
citadel, to protect himself from any marauding bands 
which might venture to show themselves so near the 
fort. 

It seems to be the lot of humanity that life should 

be composed of a series of storms, rising one after 

another. In the palace and in the cottage, in ancient 

days and at the present time, we find the sweep of the 

Inexorable law that man is born to mourn. 

*' Sorrow is for the sods of men, 
And weeping for earth's daughters." 

The cloud of menaced Indian invasion h«id passed 



KENTUCKY AS A STATE. 269 

away, when suddenly the sheriff appears in Boone's 
little cabin, and informs him that his title to his land 13 
disputed, and that legal proceedings were commenced 
against him. Boone could not comprehend this. Ken- 
tucky he regarded almost his own by the right of his 
discovery.' He had led the way there. He had estab- 
lished himself and family in the land, and had defend- 
ed it from the incursions of the Indians. And now, 
in his advancing years, to be driven from the few 
acres he had selected and to which he supposed he had 
a perfect title, seemed to him very unjust indeed. He 
could not recognise any right in what seemed to him 
but the quibbles of the lawyers. In his autobiography 
he wrote in reference to his many painful adventures : 

" My footsteps have often been marked with blood. 
Two darling sons and a brother have I lost by savage 
hands, which have also taken from me forty valuable 
horses and abundance of cattle. Many dark and 
sleepless nights have I been a companion for owls, se- 
parated from the cheerful society of men, scorched by 
the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold, 
an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness." 

Agitated by the thought of the loss of his farm and 
deeply wounded in his feelings, as though a great 
wrong had been inflicted upon him, Boone addressed 
an earnest memorial to the Legislature of Kentucky. 
In this he stated that immediately after the troubles 



2/0 DANIEL BOONE. 

with the Indians had ceased, he located himself upon 
lands to which he supposed he had a perfect title j 
that he reared his house and commenced cultivating 
his fields. And after briefly enumerating the sacri- 
fices he had made in exploring, settling and defend- 
ing Kentucky, he said he could not understand the 
justice of making a set of complicated forms of law, 
superior to his actual occupancy of the land selected, 
as he believed when and where it was, it was his un- 
questioned right to do so. 

But the lawyers and the land speculators were too 
shrewd for the pioneer. Colonel Boone was sued; 
the question went to the courts which he detested, and 
Boone lost his farm. It was indeed a very hard case. 
He had penetrated the country when no other white 
man trod its soil. He discovered its wonderful 
resources, and proclaimed them to the world. He 
had guided settlers into the region, and by his sagacity 
and courage, had provided for their wants and protec- 
ted them from the savage. And now in his declining 
years he found himself driven from his farm, robbed 
of every acre, a houseless, homeless, impoverished man* 
The deed was so cruel that thousands since, in reading 
the recital, have been agitated by the strongest 
emotions of indignation and grief. 



CHAPTER XIL 
Adventures Romantic and Perilous. 

rhe Search for the Horse.— Navigating the Ohio — HeroiBm of Mtb. 
Rowan.— Lawless Gangs Exchange of Prisoners.— Boone Re- 
visits the Home of his Childhood.— The Realms beyond th« 
Mississippi.- Habits of the Hunters.— Corn — Boone's Journey to 
the West. 

The Indians still continued hostile. The following 
incident gives one an idea of the nature of the conflict 
which continued, and of the perils which were 
encountered. 

There was a striving station where a few set- 
tlers were collected, at a spot now called State 
Creek Iron Works. One or two farm-houses were 
scattered around, but at such a short distance from 
the fort that their inmates could at once take refuge 
behind its log walls, in case of alarm. In the month 
of August, 1786, a young man residing in the fort, by 
the name of Yates, called at one of these farm-houses 
and requested a lad, Francis Downing, to accompany 
him in search of a horse, which had strayed away. 
The two friends set out together, and after searching 
the forest in vain, found themselves, the latter part of 
the afternoon, in a lonely uninhabited valley, nearly 

(271) 



2J2 DANIEL BOONE. 

seven miles from the fort Here young Downing 
became quite alarmed by some indications that 
Indians were dogging their steps. He communicated 
his fears to his companion. But Yates, who was 
several years older than Downing, was an expe- 
rienced hunter and inured to life in the woods, had 
become to a certain degree indifferent to danger. 
He made himself quite merry over his young com- 
panion's fears, asking him at what price he was willing 
to sell his scalp, and offering to insure it for sixpence. 
Still Downing was not satisfied, and his alarm 
increased as he insisted that he occasionally heard 
the crack of dry twigs behind them, as if broken by 
some one pursueing. But Yates deriding his fears, 
pressed on, making the woods resound with a song, to 
which he gave utterance from unusually full and strong 
lungs. Downing gradually slackened his pace, and 
when Yates was some thirty yards in advance of 
him, sprang into a dense cluster of tall whortleberry 
bushes, where he was effectually concealed. Scarcely 
had he done this, when to his great terror he saw 
two Indians peeping cautiously out of a thick cane- 
brake. Deceived by the song of Yates, who with 
stentorian lungs was still giving forth his woodland 
ditty, they supposed both had passed. Young 
Downing thought it impossible but that the savages 
must have seen him as he concealed himself. Greatly 



ADVENTURES. ""^ 273 

alarmed he raised his gun, intending to shoot one and 
to trust to his heels for escape from the other. 

But his hand was so unsteady that the gun went off 
before he had taken aim. Terror stricken, he rushed 
along the path Yates had trod. Yates, alarmed by 
the report of the gun, came running back. As they 
met, the two Indians were seen not far from them in 
hot pursuit. They soon could easily see that the 
enemy was gaining upon them. In their rapid flight 
they came to a deep gulley which Yates cleared at a 
bound, but young Downing failed in the attempt 
His breast struck the opposite almost precipitous 
bank, and he rolled to the bottom of the ditch. Some 
obstruction in the way prevented the Indians from 
witnessing the fall of Downing. They continued the 
pursuit of Yates, crossing the gulley a few yards 
below where Downing had met his mishap. Thus in 
less time than we have occupied in the narration, the 
Indians disappeared in their chase after Yates. 

Downing was in great perplexity. He did not dare 
to creep out of the gulley, lest he should be seen, and 
as soon as the Indians should perceive that he was 
not with Yates, as they inevitably would ere long do, 
they would know that he was left behind, and would 
turn back for his capture. Unfortunately young 
Downing had so far lost his presence of mind, that he 
had failed to reload his gun. Just then he saw one of 



274 DANIEL BOONE. 

the savages returning, evidently in search of hiin. 
There was no possible resource left but flight. Throw- 
ing away his now useless gun, he rushed into the 
forest with all the speed which terror could inspire. 
He was but a boy, the full-grown Indian gained 
rapidly upon him, he could almost strike him .vith his 
tomahawk, when they came to an immense tree, 
blown up by the roots. The boy ran on one side of 
the trunk and the Indian on the other, towards the 
immense pile of earth which adhered to the upturned 
roots. 

The boy now gave up all hope in utter despair. It 
seemed certain that the brawny Indian would get 
ahead of him and intercept his further flight. But it so 
happened — was it an accident or was it a Providence — 
that a she-bear had made her bed directly in the 
path which the Indian with almost blind eagerness 
was pursuing. Here the ferocious beast was suckling 
her cubs. The bear sprang from her lair, and instantly 
with a terrific hug grasped the savage in her paws. 
The Indian gave a terrific yell and plunged his knife 
again and again into the body of the bear. The boy 
had but one brief glance, as in this bloody embrace 
they rolled over and over on the ground. The boy, 
praying that the bear might tear the Indian in pieces, 
added new speed to his flight and reached the fort in 
safety 



ADVENTURES. 2/5 

There he found Yates who had arrived but a few 
moments before him, and who had outrun the other 
Indian. The next morning a well armed part}^ returned 
to the tree. Both the bear and the Indian had 
disappeared. Probably both had suffered very severely 
in the conflict, and both had escaped with their lives. 

Another incident illustrative of these perilous ad- 
ventures in the now peaceful State of Kentucky. Mr. 
Rowan, with his own and five other families, left the 
little hamlet at Louisville to float down the Ohio to 
Green River, and to ascend that stream, intending to 
rear their new homes on its fertile and delightful 
banks. The families were quite comfortably accom- 
modated in a large flat-bottomed boat. Another 
boat of similar construction conveyed their cattle and 
sundry articles of household furniture. On the route 
which they were pursuing, there were then no settle- 
ments. The Ohio river and the Green river flowed 
through unbroken solitudes. 

The flat boats had floated down the beautiful Ohio, 
through scenes of surpassing loveliness, about one 
hundred miles, when one night about ten o'clock a 
prodigious shouting and yelling of Indians was heard 
some distance farther down the river on the northern 
shore. Very soon they came in sight of their camp- 
iires, which were burning very brightly. It was 
evident that the Indians were having a great carousal 



2/6 DANIEL BOONE. 

rejoicing over some victory. Mr. Rowan immediately 
ordered the two boats to be lashed firmly together. 
There were but seven men on board who were capable 
of making efficient use of the rifle. Plying the oars 
as vigorously and noiselessly as they could, they 
endeavored to keep close to the Kentucky shore. 
And yet they were careful not to approach too near, 
lest there might be Indians there also. It was evi- 
dent that there was a large gathering of the Indians 
on the northern bank, for their camp-fires extended 
for a distance of nearly half a mile along the river. 

As the boats floated noiselessly along in the gloom 
of the night, under shadow of the clifls, they were not 
detected until they were opposite the central fire, 
whose brilliancy threw a flood of light nearly across 
tlie stream. A simultaneous shout greeted this dis- 
covery, and with terrific yells the savages rushed to 
their canoes and commenced a pursuit. The two flat 
boats rapidly floated beyond the illumination of the 
fires into the region of midnight darkness. The 
timid Indians, well acquainted with the white man's 
unerring aim, pursued cautiously, though their hideous 
yells resounded along the shores. 

Mr. Rowan ordered all on board to keep perfect 
silence, to conceal themselves as much as possible, 
and ordered not a gun to be fired till the Indiana 
were so near that the powder of the gim would buru 



ADVENTURES. 2/7 

them, thus rendering every shot absolutely certain. 
The Indians, with their hideous yells, pursued in 
their canoes until within a hundred yards of the 
boats. They then seemed simultaneously to have 
adopted the conviction that the better part of valor 
was discretion. In the darkness, they could not see 
the boatmen, who they had no doubt were concealed 
behind bullet-proof bulwarks. Their birch canoes 
presented not the slightest obstruction to the passage 
of a rifle ball. Knowing that the flash of a gun from 
the boat would be certain death to some one of their 
number, and that thus the boatmen, with the rapidity 
with which they could load and fire, would destroy a 
large part of their company before they could hope 
to capture the flat boats, they hesitated to approach 
any nearer, but followed in the pursuit for nearly 
three miles down the river, assailing the white men 
only with harmless yells. 

The heroic Mrs. Rowan, as she saw the canoes 
approaching, supposing that the savages would at- 
tempt to board the boats, crept quietly around in the 
darkness, collected all the axes, and placed one by 
the side of each man, leaning the handle against his 
knee. While performing this significant act she 
uttered not a word, but returned to her own seat in 
alienee, retaining a sharp hatchet for herself. 

With such determined spirits to assail, it was weU 



2/8 DANIEL BOONE. 

for the savages that they did not approach withia 
arms-length of those whom they were pursuing. They 
would certainly have met with a bloody reception. 

The savages at length, despairing of success, 
f«h*nquished the pursuit and returned to their de- 
moniac orgies around their camp-fires. It was sup- 
posed that they had captured a boat which was 
descending the river the day before, and that their 
extraordinary revelry was accompanied by the roast- 
ing of their captives. A son of Mr. Rowan, but ten 
years of age, who subsequently became one of the 
most distinguished men in Kentucky, was present on 
this occasion. He frequently, in after-years, alluded 
to the indescribable sensations of sublimity and terror 
which the scene inspired. The gloom of the night ; 
the solemn flow of the majestic river ; the dim view of 
the forests on either side ; the gleam of the camp-fires 
of the Indians, around which the half-clad savages 
were dancing in hideous contortions ; the unearthly 
yells in which every demoniac passion seemed con- 
tending for the mastery ; the shout which was given 
when they discovered the boats beneath the shadows 
of the opposite cliffs ; the pursuit of the canoes with 
redoubled vehemence of hooting ; the rapidity with 
which, with brawny arms, they paddled their boats 
to and fro ; the breathless silence which pervaded 
the flat boat while for more than an hour the occu« 



ADVENTURES. 279 

pants awaited, momentarily expecting" the terrible 
onset ; and above all, the fortitude and heroism dis- 
played by his mother, — all these combined to leave an 
impression upon the mind of the boy which could 
never be obliterated. Few will be able to read the 
record of this adventure without emotion. What then 
must it have been to have experienced it in bodily 
presence, and to have shared in all its terrible dangers ^ 

As we have before said, there was no distinctly 
proclaimed war, at this time, between the pioneers 
and the Indians. While lawless men on both sides 
were committing the most atrocious outrages, the 
chiefs and the legitimate authorities were nominally 
at peace. The red men, whether engaged in what 
they deemed lawful warfare, or moving in plundering 
bands, were in the habit of inflicting upon their cap- 
tives the most dreadful tortures which their ingenuity 
could devise. The white men could not retaliate by 
the perpetration of such revolting cruelty. 

It probably was a suggestion of Colonel Boone 
that a council might be held with the Indian chiefs^ 
and a treaty formed by which prisoners should be 
exempted from torture and exchanged, as in civilized 
warfare. The Indians were by no means reckless of 
the lives of their warriors, and would probably be 
very ready to give up a white captive if by so doing 
they could receive one of their own braves in return. 



280 DANIEL BOONE. 

A council was held at a station where Maysville now 
stands. Colonel Boone was at once selected as the 
man of all others most fit to take part in these deli- 
berations. He was not only thoroughly acquainted 
with the Indians, their habits, their modes of thought, 
and the motives most likely to influence their minds, 
but his own peculiar character seemed just the one 
calculated to inspire them with admiration. 

The principle was here adopted of an exchange of 
prisoners, which notwithstanding the continued vio- 
lence of the lawless, saved the lives of many captives. 
It is an interesting fact, illustrative of the sagacity 
and extraordinary power of Colonel Boone over the 
Indian mind, that the chiefs with one consent agreed 
in grateful commemoration of this treaty, that if any 
captive should hereafter be taken by them from Mays- 
ville, that captive should be treated with every possi- 
ble degree of lenity. And it is worthy of record that 
such a captive was subsequently taken, and that the 
Indians with the most scrupulous fidelity fulfilled 
their pledge. Indeed, it is difficult for an impartial 
historian to deny, that these poor savages, ignorant 
and cruel as they were, often displayed a sense of 
honor which we do not so often find in their oppo- 
nents. It is to be feared that were Indian historians 
to write the record of these wars, we should not find 
that they were always in the wrong. 



ADVENTURES. 28 1 

Colonel Bcone, ejected from his lands and thus left 
penniless, felt keenly the wrongs which were inflicted 
upon him. He knew full well that he had done a 
thousand times more for Kentucky _ than any other 
man living or dead. He had conferred upon the 
State services which no money could purchase. 
Though to his intimate friends he confided his suf- 
ferings, he was too proud to utter loud complaints. 
In silence he endured. But Kentucky had ceased to 
be a happy home for him. Over all its broad and 
beautiful expanse which he had opened to the world, 
there was not a single acre which he could call his 
own. And he had no money with which to purchase a 
farm of those speculators, into whose hands most of 
the lands had fallen. Could the good old man now 
rise from his grave, a Kentucky Legislature would not 
long leave him landless. There is scarcely a cabin or 
a mansion in the whole State, where Daniel Boone 
would not meet with as hospitable a reception as 
grateful hearts could give. 

As a grief-stricken child rushes to its mother's arms 
for solace, so it is natural for man, when world-weary 
and struggling with adversity, to look back with 
longing eyes to the home of his childhood. The 
remembrance of its sunny days animates him, and its 
trivial sadnesses are forgotten. Thus with Daniel 
Boone ; houseless and stung by ingratitude, he turned 



282 DANIEL BOONE. 

his eyes to the far distant home of his childhood, OA 
the banks of the Schuykill. More than forty years of 
a wonderfully adventurous life had passed, since he a 
boy of fourteen had accompanied his father in his 
removal from Reading, in Berk's County, to North 
Carolina. Still the remarkable boy had left traces 
behind him which were not yet obliterated. 

He visited Reading, probably influenced by a faint 
hope of finding there a home. A few of his former 
acquaintances were living, and many family friends 
remained. By all he was received with the greatest 
kindness. But the frontier settlement of log huts, and 
the majestic surrounding forests filled with game, had 
entirely disappeared. Highly cultivated farms, from 
which even the stumps of the forest had perished, ex- 
tended in all directions. Ambitious mansions adorned 
the hillsides, and all the appliances of advancing civil- 
ization met the eye. There could be no home here for 
Daniel Boone. Amid these strange scenes he felt as 
a stranger, and his heart yearned again for the soli- 
tudes of the forest. He longed to get beyond the 
reach of lawyers' offices, and court-houses, and land 
speculators. 

After a short visit he bade adieu forever to his 

friends upon the Schuykill, and turned his steps 

again towards the setting sun. His feelings had been 

f-^ too deeply wounded to allow him to think of remain* 



ADVENTURES. 283 

ing a man without a home in Kentucky. Still the 
idea of leaving a region endeared to him by so many 
memories must have been very painful. He remem- 
bered vividly his long and painful journeys over the 
mountains, through the wilderness untrodden by the 
foot of the white man ; his solitary exploration of the 
new Eden which he seemed to have found there ; the 
glowing accounts he had carried back to his friends of 
the sunny skies, the salubrious clime, the fertile soil, 
and the majesty and loveliness of the landscape ; of 
mountain, valley, lake and river which Providence had 
lavished with a prodigal hand in this " Garden of the 
Lord." 

One by one he had influenced his friends to emigrate, 
had led them to their new homes, had protected them 
against the savages, and now when Kentucky had 
become a prosperous State in the Union, containing 
thirty thousand inhabitants, he was cast aside, and 
under the forms of law was robbed of the few acres 
which he had cultivated as his own. His life embit- 
tered by these reflections, and seeing nothing to 
attract him in the wild and unknown regions beyond 
the Mississippi, Colonel Boone turned sadly back to 
Virginia. 

It was an easy task for him to remove. In such an 
hour, one can sometimes well say, "Blessed be 
Nothing." A few pack-horses were sufficient to convey 



284 DANIEL BOONE. 

all his household goods. It is probable that his wife 
and children, indignant at the treatment which the 
husband and father had received, were glad to leave. 

This was doubtless one of the saddest journeys 
that Colonel Boone ever undertook. Traversing an 
almost pathless wilderness in a direction a little north 
of east from Boonesborough, he crossed the various 
speers of the Alleghany range, supporting his family 
with his rifle on the way, until after passing over three 
hundred miles of the wilderness, he reached the mouth 
of the Kanawha river, as that stream flows from 
Virginia due north, and empties into the Ohio river. 
Here there was a point of land washed by the Ohio 
on the north, and the Great Kanawha on the west, to 
which the appropriate name of Point Pleasant had 
been given. It does not appear that civilization had 
as yet penetrated this region. The emigration to Ken- 
tucky had floated by it down the river, descending 
from Pittsburg, or had crossed the mountain passes 
from North Carolina, several hundred miles to the 
south. 

Colonel Boone was now fifty-five years of age. If 
there were any settlement at the time at Point Pleasant, 
it must have consisted merely of a few log huts. Here 
at all events. Colonel Boone found the solitude and 
the communion with nature alone, for which his heart 
yearned. The world might call him poor, and still he 



ADVENTURES. 28^ 

was rich in the abundant supply of all his earthly 
wants. He reared his log hut where no one appeared 
to dispute his claim. The fertile soil around, a 
virgin soil, rich with undeveloped treasures, under the 
simplest culture produced abundantly, and the forest 
around supplied him daily with animal food more 
than a European peasant sees in a year. 

Here Colonel Boone and his family remained for 
several years, to use a popular phrase, buried from 
the world. His life was mainly that of a hunter. 
Mr. Peck, speaking of the habits of those pioneers who 
depended mainly upon the rifle for support, writes : 

** I have often seen him get up early in the morning, 
walk hastily out, and look anxiously to the woods 
and snuff the autumnal winds with the highest rapture ; 
then return into the house and cast a quick and 
attentive look at the rifle, which was always suspended 
to a joist by a couple of buck-horns or little forks. 
The hunting dog understanding the intentions of his 
master, would wag his tail, and by every blandishment 
m his power, express his readiness to accompany him 
to the woods." 

It probably did not diminish Colonel Boone's interest 
in his new home, that it was exposed to all the perils of 
border life ; that his rifle should be ever loaded ; that his 
faithful watch-dog should be stationed at the door, to 
give warning of any approach" ng footsteps ; and that 



286 DANIEL BOONE. 

he and his family should always be ready for a siege ot 
battle. With these precautions, Boone had no more 
fear of assault from half a dozen vagabond Indians^ 
than he had from so many howling wolves. 

The casualties of life had greatly reduced his family. 
Of his three sons, the eldest had fallen beneath the 
arrow and the tomahawk of the savages amidst the 
gloomy defiles of the Alleghany mountains. His 
second son was killed at the dreadful battle of the Blue 
Licks, as his agonised father had been compelled to 
abandon him to the* merciless foe. His third son, 
probably chagrined by the treatment which his father 
had received from the authorities of Kentucky, had 
bidden adieu to all the haunts of civilized life, and 
traversing the wilderness towards the setting sun for 
many hundred miles, had crossed the Mississippi and 
sought a home in the wilds of the upper Louisiana, 
then under the dominion of Spain. 

As Boone was quietly engaged in his solitary voca- 
tion of farmer and hunter, where there were no books, 
no newspapers, nothing whatever to inform him of 
what was transpiring in the busy world of civilization, 
or in the haunts of savage life, two or three hunters 
came one day to his cabin, where of course they met 
with a very hospitable reception. It was not difficult 
to entertain guests in those days. The floor of the 
cabin supplied all the needed accommodations for 



i 



ADVENTURES. 287 

lodging. Each guest with his rifle could easily furnish 
more food than was desired for the whole family. 

A little corn-meal, very coarsely ground in what 
was called a tub-mill, gave quite a variety of palatable 
food. Boiled in water it formed a dish called mush, 
which when eaten with milk, honey or butter, presented 
truly a delicious repast for hungry mouths. Mixed 
with cold water, it was ready to be baked. When cov- 
ered with hot ashes, it emerged smoking from the glow- 
ing embers in the form of Ash Cake. When baked upon 
a shingle and placed before the coals, it was termed 
Journey Cake, so called because it could be so speed- 
ily prepared. This name has been corrupted in 
modern times into Johnny Cake. When baked upon 
a helveless hoe, it formed the Hoe Cake. When 
baked in a kettle covered with a heated lid, if in one 
large cake, it was called a Pone or loaf. If in quite 
a number of small cakes they were called Dodgers. 

Corn flour seems to have been peculiarly prepared 
by Providence for the pioneers. For them it possesses 
some very great advantages over all other flour. It 
requires but few and the most simple cooking utensils. 
It can be rendered very palatable without either yeast, 
eggs, sugar or spices of any kind. It can easily be 
raised in the greatest abundance, and aflbrds the most 
wholesome and nutritious food. 

** Let paeans," writes Mr. Hartly, " be sung all over 



288 DANIEL BOONE. 

the mighty West, to Indian Corn. Without it, the 
West would still have been a wilderness. Was the 
frontier suddenly invaded, without commissary, or 
quartermaster, or other sources of supply, each soldier 
parched a peck of corn. A portion of it was put into 
his pockets, the remainder in his wallet, and throwing 
it upon his saddle with his rifle on his shoulder, he 
was ready in half an hour for the campaign. Did a 
flood of emigration inundate the frontier, with an 
amount of consumers disproportioned to the supply 
of grain, the facility of raising the Indian com, 
and its early maturity, gave promise and guarantee 
that the scarcity would be temporary and tolerable. 
Did the safety of the frontier demand the services of 
every adult militiaman, the boys and women could 
themselves raise corn, and furnish ample supplies of 
bread. Did an autumnal intermittent confine the 
whole family, or the entire population to the sick bed, 
this certain concomitant of the clearing and culti- 
vating the new soil, mercifully withholds its paroxysms 
till the crop of corn is made. It requires no further 
labor or care afterwards. Paeans, say we, and a temple 
of woi^hipping to the creator of Indian Corn !" 

The hunters to whom we referred were indeed con- 
genial companions to Daniel Boone. As day after 
day they accompanied him in the chase, and night 
after night sat by the blaze of his cabine-fire, related 



ADVENTURES. 289 

to him the adventures they had encountered far away 
beyond the Mississippi, the spirit of his youth revived 
within him. An irrepressible desire sprang up in his 
heart again to become a pioneer in the pathless 
forest which he loved so well. It is not improbable 
also that his parental feelings might have been aroused 
by the consideration that his son had gone before him 
to that distant land ; and that he might have been 
animated by the hope of being reunited with him in 
his declining years. 

The hunters represented to him that another Ken- 
tucky could be found beyond the Father of Waters ; 
that the game was abundant and would be inexhaust- 
ible, until long after his earthly pilgrimage should 
end ; that the Spanish Government, desirous of pro^ 
moting emigration, were ready to make the most 
liberal grants of land to any man who would rear a 
cabin and commence the cultivation of the soil ; that. 
over an expanse of hundreds of miles of a sunny- 
clime, and as luxurious soil as heart could desire, he 
could select his broad acres with no fear of ever again 
being ejected from his home. 

These representations were resistless. Colonel 
Boone decided again to become a wanderer to the 
far West, though it involved the relinquishment of 
American citizenship and becoming a subject of the 
crown of Spain. 

26 



290 DANIEL BOONE. 

The year 1795 had now come, as Colonel Boone 
gathered up his few household goods for the fourth 
great remove of his life. He was born on the banks 
of the Delaware ; his childhood was passed amidst 
the solitudes of the Upper Skuylkill ; his early man- 
hood, where he reared his cabin and took to it his 
worthy bride, wa^. in North Carolina. Thence pene- 
trating the wilderness through adventures surpassing 
the dreams of romance, he had passed many years 
amidst the most wonderful vicissitudes of quietude 
and of agitation, of peace and of war, on the settle- 
ment of which he was the father, at Boonesborough, 
in the valley of the Kentucky river. Robbed of the 
possessions which he had earned a hundred times 
over, he had sought a temporary residence at Point 
Pleasant, in Virginia. And now, as he was approach- 
ing the termination of his three score years, he 
was prepared to traverse the whole extent of Ken- 
tucky, from the Alleghany border on the east, to the 
mighty flood of the Missisippi, which then upon the 
west rushed with its turbid flood through an almost 
unbroken solitude. It was a long, long journey. 

We can only surmise the reasons why he did not 
float down the Ohio in a flat boat. It may be said 
that he was entirely unaccustomed to boating. And 
as it does not appear that any other families joined 
him in the enterprise, his solitary boat would be 



ADVENTURES. 291 

almost certain to be attacked and captured by some 
of the marauding bands which frequented the northern 
banks of the Ohio. 

Colonel Boone was perfectly at home in the wilder- 
ness. He could always find a path for himself, where 
there was no trail to follow. And but few Indians 
now ventured into the interior of the State. We have 
no record of the journey. He reached the Missisippi 
safely, crossed the riv^sr into what is now the State of 
Missouri, and found a warm greeting in the cabin of 
his son Daniel M. Boone, who had established him- 
self upon the western banks of the river, near where 
the city of St Louis now stands. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

A New Home, 

Colonel Boone welcomed by the Spanish Authorities. — Boone's Nar- 
rative to Audubon. — The Midnight Attack. — Pursuit of tha 
Savages. — Sickness In the "Wilderness. — Honesty of Colonel 
Boone. — Payment of his Debts. — Loss of all his Property. 

At the time when Colonel Boone crossed the Mis- 
sissippi and entered Missouri, the Spanish Govern- 
ment, then in possession of that territory, being 
anxious to promote the settlement of the country, 
gave a very cordial welcome to all emigrants.- The 
fame of Colonel Boone, as one of the most bold and 
valuable of pioneers, had preceded him. The Lieu- 
tenant Governor under the Spanish crown, who resided 
at St. Louis, received him with marked attention, and 
gave him the assurance that ample portions of land 
should be given to him and his family. 

Colonel Boone took up his residence, with his son, 
In what is called the Femme Osage district. The 
Spanish authorities appointed him Commandant of 
the district, which was an office of both civil and 
military power. His commission was dated July nth, 
l8oa Remote as was this region from the Atlantic 

(292) 



A NEW HOME. 293 

States, bold adventurers, lured by the prospect of 
obtaining large tracts of land, were rapidly pouring 
in. Instead of collecting together, they scattered 
wildly over the vast domain. Don Charles, the Spa- 
nish governor, gave Colonel Boone eight thousand 
acres of land on the north side of the Missouri riven 
By the law of the province he was bound to build 
upon some part of this land a house within the yeafp. 
and also to obtain a confirmation of the grant from^ 
the representative of the Spanish crown, then residing; 
in New Orleans. Both of these precautions the simple- 
minded man neglected to adopt. To visit New Orleans; 
required a journey through the wilderness of more 
than a thousand miles. Though he might float down 
the stream in his boat he would be exposed conti- 
nually to attacks from the Indians on its banks, and 
when ready to return he could not surmount the rapid 
current of the river in his boat, but would be com- 
pelled to traverse the winding banks, often through 
almost impenetrable forests and morasses. His duties 
as syndic or justice of the peace also occupied much 
of his time, and the Lieutenant Governor at St. Louis 
agreed to dispense with his residence upon his lands. 
In addition to this, Colonel Boone had no doubt that 
the country would soon come under the power of the 
United States, and he could not believe the United 
States Government would disturb his title. 



294 DANIEL BOONE. 

Soon after Boone's emigration to Missouri, the 
Emperor Napoleon, by treaty with Spain, obtained 
possession of the whole of the vast region west of the 
Mississippi and Missouri, then known as Louisiana, 
and the region was transferred to France. It is a cu- 
rious fact in the history of Boone passing through such 
wonderful adventures, that he had been a subject of 
George II., George III., a citizen of the United States, 
of the temporary nationality ot Transylvania, an 
adopted son and citizen of the Shawanese tribe of 
Indians, a subject of Charles IV. of Spain, and now 
he found himself a subject of the first Napoleon, 
whose empire was then filling the world with ita 
renown. 

Not long after this, the Emperor sold the country^ 
as we have recorded, to the United States, saying with 
that prophetic wisdom which characterised this extra- 
ordinary man, " I have now given England a rival 
upon the seas.** The fulfilment of this prophecy has 
since then been every hour in process of develop- 
ment. 

Colonel Boone seems to have been very happy in 
his new home. He still enjoyed his favorite pursuit of 
hunting, for the forests around him were filled with 
game and with animals whose rich furs were every 
year becoming more valuable. The distinguished 
naturalist, J. J. Audubon, visited him in his solitary 



A NEW HOME. 295 

retreat, and spent a night with him. In his Ornitho- 
logical Biography he gives the following narrative 
which he received from, Boone, that evening as they 
sat at the cabin fire. We give the story in the words 
of the narrator : 

"Daniel Boone, or as he was usually called in the 
Western country, Colonel Boone, happened to spend 
a night with me under the same roof, more than 
twenty years ago. We had returned from a shooting 
excursion, in the course of which his extraordinary 
skill in the management of the rifle had been fully 
displayed. On retiring to the room appropriated to 
that remarkable individual and myself for the night, I 
felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adven- 
tures than I did, and accordingly took the liberty of 
proposing numerous questions to him. 

" The stature and general appearance of this wan- 
derer 01 the western forests approached the gigantic. 
His chest was broad and prominent, his muscular 
powers displayed themselves in every limb ; his 
countenance gave indication of his great courage, 
enterprise and perseverance ; and when he spoke the 
very motion of his lips brought the impression that 
whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than 
strictly true. I undressed while he merely t©ok off 
his hunting shirt and arranged a few folds of blankets 
on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as be ob- 



.'296 DANIEL BOONE. 

served, than on the softest bed. When we had both 
•disposed of ourselves each after his own fashion, he 
related to me the following account of his powers ot 
memory, which I lay before your kind reader in his 
•own words, hoping that the simplicity of his style 
«nay prove interesting to you : 

** * I was once,' said he, * on a hunting expedition on 
the banks of the Green River, when the lower parts of 
Kentucky were still in the hands of nature, and rone 
but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its lawful 
proprietors. We Virginians had for some time been 
waging a war of intrusion upon them, and I among 
the rest rambled through the woods in pursuit of 
their race, as I now would follow the tracks of any 
Tavenous animal. The Indians outwitted me one dark 
night, and I was as unexpectedly as suddenly made a 
iprisoner by them. 

"'The trick had been managed with great skill; 
'for no sooner had I extinguished the fire of my camp, 
-and laid me down to rest in full security, as I thought, 
than I felt seized by an undistinguishable number of 
hands, and was immediately pinioned as if about to be 
led to the scaffold for execution. To have attempted 
to be refractory would have proved useless and dan- 
gerous to my life, and I suffered myself to be removed 
from my camp to theirs, a few miles distant, without 
uttering a word of complaint. You are aware. I dare- 



A NEW HOME. 297 

say, that to act in this manner was the best policy, as 
you understand that by so doing, I proved to the 
Indians at once that I was born and bred as fearless 
of death as any of themselves. 

"*When we reached the camp great rejoicings were 
exhibited. Two squaws and a few papooses appeared 
particularly delighted at the sight of me, and I was 
assured by every unequivocal gesture and word that 
on the morrow the mortal enemy of the red skins 
would cease to live. I never opened my lips, but was 
busy contriving some scheme which might enable me 
to give the rascals a slip before dawn. The women 
immediately fell a searching about my hunting shirt 
for whatever they might think valuable, and fortu- 
nately for me soon found my flask filled with strong 
whiskey. 

** * A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous 
countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the 
anticipation of their intoxication. The crew began 
immediately to beat their bellies and sing, as they 
passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. How often 
did I wish the flask ten times its size and filled with 
aquafortis ! I observed that the squaws drank more 
freely than the warriors, and again my spirits were 
about to be depressed when the report of a gun was 
heard at a distance. The Indians all jumped on their 
feet The singing and drinking were both brought to a 



298 DANIEL BOONE. 

stand, and I saw with inexpressible joy the men walk 
off to some distance and talk to the squaws. I knew 
that they were consulting about me, and I foresaw 
that in a few moments the warriors would go to dis- 
cover the cause of the gun having been fired so near 
their camp. I expected that the squaws would be left 
to guard me. Well, sir, it was just so. They returned, 
the men took up their guns and walked away. The 
squaws sat down again and in less than five minutes 
had my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling 
down their throats the remains of the whiskey. 

" * With pleasure did I see them becoming more and 
more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of them 
that it was quite impossible for these women to be of 
any service. They tumbled down, rolled about and 
began to snore, when I, having no other chance of 
freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled 
over and over towards the fire, and after a short time 
burned them asunder. I rose on my feet, snatched 
up my rifle, and for once in my life spared that of 
Indians. I now recollected how desirous I once or 
twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches with 
my tomahawk. But when I again thought upon 
killing beings unprepared and unable to defend 
themselves, it looked like murder without need, and J 
gave up the idea. 

** * But,, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, and 



A NEW HOME. 299 

walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three 
large chips and ran off. I soon reached the river, 
soon crossed it, and threw myself into the cane-brakes, 
imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet, so that 
no chance might be left for those from whom I had 
escaped to overtake me. 

" ' It is now nearly twenty years since this happened, 
and more than five since I left the whites' settlement, 
whirh I might never probably have visited again, had 
I not been called upon as a witness in a law suit which 
was pending in Kentucky, and which I really believe 
would never have been settled had I not come forward 
and established the beginning of a certain boundary 
line. The story is this, bir : 

" * Mr. moved from Old Virginia into Kentucky, 

and having a large tract granted to him in the new 
State, laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining 
Green River, and, as chance would have it, took for 
one of his corners the very ash tree on which I had 
made my mark, beginning, as it is expressed in the 
deed, * At an ash marked by three distinct notches of 
the tomahawk of a white man.* 

" * The tree had grown much, and the bark had 

coveted the marks. But somehow or other Mi. 

had heard from some one all that I have already 
said to you, and thinking that I might remember the 
spot alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer 



300 DANIEL BOONE. 

discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at 
least to find the place or the tree. His letter men- 
tioned that all my expenses should be paid ; and 
not caring much about once more going back to 

Kentucky, I started and met Mr. . After some 

conversation, the affair with the Indians came to my 
recollection. I considered for a while, and began to 
think that, after all, I could find the very spot, as well 
as the tree, if it were yet standing. 

" Mr. and I mounted our horses and off we 

went to the Green River bottoms. After some diffi- 
culty — for you must be aware, sir, that great changes 
have taken place in those woods — I found at last the 
spot where I had crossed the river, and waiting for 
the moon to rise, made for the course in which I 
thought the ash trees grew. On approaching the 
place I felt as if the Indians were there still, and as if 

I were still a prisoner among them. Mr. and I 

camped near what I conceived the spot, and waited 
jntil the return of day. 

" ' At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and after a 
good deal of musing thought that an ash tree, then 
in sight, must be the very one on which I had made 
my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt about 
it, and mentioned my thought to Mr. . 

** * Well, Colonel Boone,' said he, * if you think so I 
hope that it may prove true, but we must have some 



A NEW HOME. 301 

witnesses. Do you stay hereabouts and I will go 
anc bring some of the settlers whom I know.' 

" ' I a^eed. Mr. trotted off, and I, to pass the 

time, rambled about to see if a deer was still living in 
the land. But ah ! sir, what a wonderful difference 
thirty years makes in a country ! Why, at the time 
when I was caught by the Indians, you would not 
have walked out in any direction more than a mile 
without shooting a buck or a bear. There were then 
thousands of buffaloes on the hills in Kentucky. The 
land looked as if it never would become poor ; and 
to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. But 
when I was left to myself on the banks of Green 
River, I daresay for the last time in my life, a few 
signs only of the deer were seen, and as to a deer 
itself I saw none. 

« * Mr. returned, accompanied by three gentle- 
men. They looked upon me as if I had been Wash- 
ington himself, and walked to the ash tree, which I 
now called my own, as if in quest of a long lost 
treasure. I took an axe from one of them and cut a 
few chips off the bark. Still no signs were to be 
seen So I cut again until I thought it time to be 
cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my 
butcher knife until I did come to where my tomahawk 
had left an impression on the wood. We now went 
regularly to work and scraped at the tree with care 

20 



302 DANIEL BOONE, 

until three hacks, as plain as any three notches eveJ 
were, could be seen. Mr. and the other gentle- 
men were astonished, and I must allow that I was as 
anuch surprised as pleased myself. I made affidavit 
of this remarkable occurrence in presence of these 

gentlemen. Mi. gained his cause. I left Green 

River for ever, and came to where we are now ; and, 
sir, I wish you a good night." 

The life of this wonderful man was filled with 
similar adventures, many of which can now never be 
recalled. The following narrative will give the reader 
an idea of the scenes which were continually occur- 
ring in those bloody conflicts between the white set- 
tlers and the Indians : 

" A widow was residing in a lonely log cabin, remote 
from any settlers, in what is now Bourbon County, 
Kentucky. Her lonely hut consisted of but two 
rooms. One, the aged widow occupied herself, with 
two sons and a widowed daughter with an infant 
child ; the other was tenanted by her three unmarried 
daughters, the oldest of whom was twenty years of age. 

" It was eleven o'clock at night, and the members of 
the industrious family in their lonely habitation had 
retired, with the exception of one of the daughters 
and one of the sons who was keeping her company. 
Some indications of danger had alarmed the young 
man, though he kept his fears to himself. 



A NEW HOME. 303 

"* The cry apparently of owls in an adjoining forest 
was heard, answering each other in rather an unusual 
way. The horses in the enclosure by the side of the 
house, who seemed to have an instinct informing them 
of the approach of the Indians, seemed much excited 
and galloped around snorting with terror. Soon steps 
were heard in the yard, and immediately several loud 
knocks were made at the door, with some one enquir- 
ing, in good English, "Who keeps this house ?" The 
young man very imprudently was just unbarring the 
door when the mother sprang from the bed, exclaim- 
ing that they were Indians. 

" The whole family was immediately aroused, and 
the young men seized their guns. The Indians now 
threw off all disguise, and began to thunder at the 
door, endeavoring to break it down. Through a loop 
hole prepared for such an emergency, a rifle shot, 
discharged at the savages, compelled a precipitate 
retreat. Soon, however, they cautiously returned, 
and attacking the other end of the cabin, where they 
found a point not exposed to the fire from within, 
they succeeded at length in breaking through, and 
entered the room occupied by the three girls. One 
of them they seized and bound. Her sister made 
desperate resistance, and stabbed one of the Indians 
to the heart with a large knife which she was using at 
the loom. They immediately tomahawked her and 



304 DANIEL BOONE. 

she fell dead upon the floor. The little girl in the 
gloom of midnight they had overlooked. The poof 
little thing ran out of the door, and might have 
escaped had she not, in her terror, lost all self-control, 
and ran round the house wringing her hands and 
crying bitterly. 

" The brothers, agonized by the cries of their little 
sister, were just about opening the door to rush out 
to her rescue, when their more prudent mother de- 
clared that the child must be abandoned to its fate, 
that any attempt to save her would not only be 
unavailincr, but would ensure the certain destruction 
of them all. Just then the child uttered a most 
frantic scream They heard the dull sound as of a 
tomahawk falling upon the brain. There were a few 
convulsive moans, and all again was silent. It was 
but too evident to all what these sounds signified. 

•* Presently the crackling of flames was heard, and 
through the port-holes could be seen the glare of the 
rising conflagration, while the shouts of the savages 
grew more exultant. They had set fire to the end of 
the building occupied by the daughters. The logs 
were dry as tinder, and the devouring element was 
soon enveloping the whole building in its fatal 
embrace. To remain in the cabin was certain death, 
in its most appalling form. In rushing out there was 
a bare possibility that some might escape. There was 



A NEW HOME. JOJ 

no time for reflection. The hot stifling flames and 
smotxiering smoke were rolling in upon them, when 
they opened the door and rushed out into the outer 
air, endeavoring as soon as possible to reach the 
gloom of the forest. 

** The old lady, aided by her eldest son, ran in one 
direction towards a fence, while the other daughter, 
with her infant in her arms, accompanied by the 
younger of the brothers, ran in another direction. The 
fire was blazing so fiercely as to shed all around the 
light of day. The old lady had just reached the fence 
when several rifle balls pierced her body and she fell 
dead. Her son almost miraculously escaped, and 
leaping the fence plunged into the forest. The other 
party was pursued by the Indians, with loud yells. 
Throwing down their guns which they had discharged, 
the savages rushed upon the young man and his sister 
with their gleaming tomahawks. Gallantly the brother 
defended his sister ; firing upon the savages as they 
came rushing on, and then assailing them with the 
butt of his musket which he wielded with the fury of 
despair. He fought with such herculean strength as 
to draw the attention of all the savages upon himself, 
and thus gave his sister an opportunity of escaping. 
He soon however fell beneath their tomahawks, and 
was in the morning found scalped and mangled in the 
most shocking manner. 



306 DANIEL BOONE. 

Of this family of eight persons two only escaped 
from this awful scene of midnight massacre. The 
neighborhood was immediately aroused. The secorid 
daughter was carried off a captive by the savages. 
The fate of the poor girl awakened the deepest sym- 
pathy, and by daylight thirty men were assembled 
on horseback, under the command of Col. Edwards, 
to pursue the Indians. Fortunately a light snow had 
fallen during the night. Thus it was impossible for 
the savages to conceal their trail, and they were fol- 
lowed on the full gallop. The wretches knew full well 
that they would not be allowed to retire unmolested 
They fled with the utmost precipitation, seeking to 
gain the mountainous region which bordered upon 
the Licking River. 

A hound accompanied the pursuing party. The 
sagacious animal was very eager in the chase. As 
the trail became fresh, and the scent indicated that 
the foe was nearly overtaken, the hound rushing 
forward, began to bay very loudly. This gave the 
Indians the alarm. Finding the strength of their 
captive failing, so that she could no longer continue 
the rapid flight, they struck their tomahawks into 
her brain, and left her bleeding and dying upon the 
snow. Her friends soon came up and found her in 
the convulsions of death. Her brother sprang from 
his horse and tried in vq>n to stop the eftusion ol 



A NEW HOME. 307 

blood. She seemed to recognize him, gave him her 
hand, uttered a few inarticulate words, and died. 

The pursuit was then continued with new ardor, 
and in about twenty minutes the avenging white m'^n 
came within sight of the savages. With considerable 
military sagacity, the Indians had taken position 
upon a steep and narrow ridge, and seemed desirous 
of magnifying their numbers in the eyes of their 
pursuers by running from tree to tree and making 
the forest resound with their hideous yells. The 
pursuers were, however, too well acquainted with 
Indian warfare to be deceived by this childish artifice. 
They dismounted, tied their horses, and endeavored 
to surround the enemy, so as to cut off his retreat. 
but the cunning Indians, leaving two of their number 
behind to delay the pursuit by deceiving the white 
men into the conviction that they all were there, fled 
to the mountains. One of this heroic rear-guard — 
for remaining under the circumstances was the almost 
certain surrender of themselves to death — was instantly 
shot. The other, badly wounded, was tracked for a 
long distance by his blood upon the snow. At length 
his trail was lost in a running stream. Night came, 
a dismal night of rain, long and dark. In the morn- 
ing the snow had melted, every trace of the retteat 
of the enemy was obliterated, and the further pursuit 
of the foe was relinquished. 



308 ' DANIEL BOONE. 

Colonel Boone, deprived of his property by the 
unrelenting processes of pitiless law, had left Ken- 
tucky impoverished and in debt. His rifle was almost 
the only property he took with him beyond the Mis- 
sissippi. The rich acres which had been assigned to 
him there were then of but little more value than so 
many acres of the sky. Though he was so far away 
from his creditors that it was almost impossible that 
they should ever annoy him, still the honest-hearted 
man was oppressed by the consciousness of his debts, 
and was very anxious to pay them. The forests were 
full of game, many of the animals furnishing very 
valuable furs. He took his rifle, some pack-horses, 
and, accompanied by a single black servant boy, 
repaired to the banks of the Osage River to spend 
the winter in hunting. Here he was taken danger- 
ously sick, and was apprehensive that he should die. 
We know not what were his religious thoughts upon 
this occasion, but his calmness in view of death, taken 
in connection with his blameless, conscientious, and 
reflective life, and with the fact that subsequently he 
became an openly avowed disciple of Jesus, indicate 
that then he found peace in view of pardoned sin 
through faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ. He 
pointed out to the black boy the place where, should 
he die, he wished to be buried. He gave very minute 
directions in reference to his burial and the disposal 



A NEW HOME. 309 

of his rifle, blankets, and peltry. Mr. Peck in the 
following language describes this interesting incident 
in the life of the pioneer : 

"On another occasion he took pack-horses and 
went to the country on the Osage river, taking for a 
camp-keeper a negro boy about twelve or fourteen 
years of age. Soon after preparing his camp and 
laying in his supplies for the winter, he was taken 
sick and lay a long time in camp. The horses were 
hobbled out on the range. After a period of stormy 
weather, there came a pleasant and delightful day, 
and Boone felt able to walk out. With his staff — for 
he was quite feeble — he took the boy to the summit 
of a small eminence and marked out the ground in 
shape and size of a grave, and then gave the following 
directions. 

'* He instructed the boy, in case of his death, to 
wash and lay his body straight, wrapped up in one of 
the cleanest blankets. He was then to construct a 
kind of shovel, and with that instrument and the 
hatchet to dig a grave exactly as he had marked it 
out. He was then to drag the body to the place and 
put it in the grave, which he was directed to cover up, 
putting posts at the head and foot. Poles were to 
be placed around and above the surface, the trees to 
be marked so that the place could be easily found by 
his friends ; the horses were to be caught, the blankets 



310 DANIEL BOONE. 

and skins gathered up, with some special instructions 
about the <^Id rifle, and various messages to his family. 
All these directions were given, as the boy afterwards 
declared, with entire calmness, and as if he were giving 
instructions about ordinary business. He soon recov- 
ered, broke up his camp, and returned homeward 
without the usual signs of a winter's hunt." 

One writer says Colonel Boone went on a trapping 
excursion up the Grand River. This stream rises in 
the southern part of Iowa, and flows in a southerly 
course into the Missouri. He was entirely alone. 
Paddling his canoe up the lonely banks of the 
Missouri, he entered the Grand River, and established 
his camp in a silent sheltered cove, where an expe- 
rienced hunter would with difficulty find it. 

Here he first laid in his supply of venison, turkeys 
and bear's meat, and then commenced his trapping 
operation, where no sound of his rifle would disturb 
the beavers and no smell of gunpowder would excite 
their alarm. Every morning he took the circuit of 
his traps, visiting them all in turn. Much to his 
alarm, he one morning encountered a large encamp- 
ment of Indians in his vicinity, engaged in hunting. 
He immediately retreated to his camp and secreted 
himself Fortunately for him, quite a deep snow fell 
that night, which covered his traps. But this same 
snow prevented him from leaving his camp, lest hi* 



A NEW HOME. 31I 

footprints should be discovered. For twenty days he 
continued thus secreted, occasionally, at midnight, 
venturing to cook a little food, when there was no 
danger that the smoke of his fire would reveal his 
retreat. At length the enemy departed, and he was 
released from his long imprisonment. He subse- 
quently stated that never in his life had he felt so 
much anxiety for so long a period, lest the Indians 
should discover his traps and search out his camp. 

It seems that the object of Colonel Boone in these 
long hunting excursions was to obtain furs that he 
might pay the debts which he still owed in Kentucky. 
A man of less tender conscience would no longer 
have troubled himself about them. He was far 
removed from any importunity on the part of his 
creditors, or from any annoyance through the law. 
Still his debts caused him much solicitude, and he 
could not rest in peace until they were fully paid. 

After two or three seasons of this energetic hunting, 
Colonel Boone succeeded in obtaining a sufficient 
quantity of furs to enable him, by their sale, to pay 
all his debts. With this object in view, he set out on 
his long journey of several hundred miles, through an 
almost trackless wilderness, to Kentucky. He saw 
every creditor and paid every dollar. Upon his 
return, Colonel Boone had just one half dollar in his 
pocket. But he said triumphantly to his friends : 



312 DANIEL BOONE. 

" Now I am ready and willing to die. I am relieved 
from a burden which has long oppressed me. I have 
paid all my debts, and no one will say when I am 
gone, * Boone was a dishonest man.* I am perfectly 
willing to die." 

In the year 1803, the territory west of the Missis- 
sippi came into the possession of the United States. 
The whole region, embracing what is now Missouri, 
was then called the territory of Louisiana. Soon after 
this a commission was appointed, consisting of three 
able and impartial men, to investigate the validity of 
the claims to land granted by the action of the 
Spanish Government. Again poor Boone was caught 
in the meshes of the law. It was found that he had 
not occupied the land which had been granted him, 
that he had not gone to New Orleans to perfect his 
title, and that his claim was utterly worthless. 

** Poor Boone ! Seventy-four years old, and the 
second grasp you have made upon the West has been 
powerless. You have risked life, and lost the life next 
dearest your own for the West. In all its fearful 
forms, death has looked you in the face^ and you have 
moved on to conquer the soil which you did but 
conquer, that it might be denied to you. You hsTC 
been the architect of the prosperity of others, but 
your own crumbles each time as you are about to 
occupy it When he lost his f?4rm in Boonesborough; 



A NEW HOME. 313 

he did not Unger around in complainings, but went 
quietly away, returning only to fulfil the obligations 
he had incurred. And now this last decision came, 
even at old age, to leave Daniel Boone, the Pioneer of 
the West, unable to give a title deed to a solitary 
acre. * 

The fur trade was at this time very lucrative. 
Many who were engaged in it accumulated large 
fortunes. It was in this traffic that John Jacob Astor 
laid the foundations of his immense wealth. A guide 
of Major Long stated that he purchased of an Indian 
one hundred and twenty beaver skins for two blankets, 
two gallons of rum, and a pocket mirror. The skins 
he took to Montreal, where he sold them for over four 
hundred dollars. 

In the employment of the fur companies the 
trappers are of two kinds, called the " hired hand,'* 
and the " free trapper." The former is employed by 
the month, receiving regular wages, and bringing in 
all the furs which he can obtain. Be they more or 
Jiess, he receives his stipulated monthly wages. The 
free trapper is supplied by the company with traps 
and certain other conveniences with which he plunges 
into the forest on his own hook» engaging however 



* Life of Boone, by W. H. Bogart, p. 369. 
27 



314 DANIEL BOONE. 

to sell to the company, at a stipulated price, whatever 
furs he may secure. 

The outfit of the trapper as he penetrated the vast 
and trackless region of gloomy forests, treeless prairies, 
and solitary rivers, spreading everywhere around him, 
generally consisted of two or three horses, one for the 
saddle and the others for packs containing his equip- 
ment of traps, ammunition, blankets, cooking utensils, 
&c., for passing lonely months in the far away solitudes. 
He would endeavor to find, if possible, a region which 
neither the white man nor the Indian had ever visited. 

The dress of the hunter consisted of a strong shirt 
of well-dressed and pliant buckskin, ornamented with 
long fringes. The vanity of dress, if it may be so 
called, followed him into regions where no eye but his 
own could see its beauties. His pantaloons were also 
made of buckskin decorated with variously-colored 
porcupine quills and with long fringes down the out- 
side of the leg. Moccasins, often quite gorgeously 
embroidered, fitted closely to his feet. A very flexible 
hat or cap covered his head, generally of felt, 
obtained from some Indian trader. There was sus- 
pended over his left shoulder, so as to hang beneath 
his right arm, a powder horn and bullet pouch. In 
the latter he carried balls, flints, steel, and various 
odds and ends. A long heavy rifle he bore upon liis 
shoulder. 



A NEW HOME. 315^ 

A belt of buckskin buckled tightly around the 
waist, held a large butcher knife in a sheath of 
stout buffalo hide, and also a buckskin case contcining 
a whet-stone. A small hatchet or tomahawk was also 
attached to this belt. Thus rigged and in a new 
dress the hunter of good proportions presented a very 
picturesque aspect. With no little pride he exhibited 
himself at the trading posts, where not only the squaws 
and the children, but veteran hunters and Indiaa 
braves contemplated his person with admiration. 

Thus provided the hunter, more frequently alone 
but sometimes accompanied by two or three others, 
set out for the mountain streams, as early in the spring 
as the melting ice would enable him to commence 
operations against the beaver. 

Arrived on his hunting ground he carefully ascends 
some creek or stream, examining the banks with prac- 
ticed eye to discern any sign of the presence of 
beaver or of any other animal whose fur would prove 
valuable. If a cotton-wood tree lies prostrate he 
examines it to see if it has been cut down by the 
sharp tooth of the beaver ; and if so whether it ha» 
been cut down for food or to furnish material for 
damming a stream. If the track of a beaver is seen 
in the mud, he follows the track until he finds a good 
place to set his steel trap in the run of the animal^ 
hiding it under water and carefully attaching it by a* 



3i6 



DANIEL BOONE. 



chain to a bush or tree, or to some picket driven into 
the bank. A float strip is also made fast to the trap, 
so that should the beaver chance to break away with 
ihe trap, this float upon the surface, at the end of a 
cord a few feet long, would point out the position of 
the trap. 

"When a "lodge" is discovered the trap is set at 
the edge of the dam, at the point where the animal 
passes from deep to shoal water. Early in the morn- 
ing the hunter always mounts his mule and examines 
the traps. The captured animals are skinned, and the 
tails, which are a great dainty, carefully packed into 
camp. The skin is then stretched over a hoop or 
frame-work of osier twigs and is allowed to dry, the 
flesh and fatty substance being carefully scraped off. 
When dry it is folded into a square sheet, the fur 
turned inward, and the bundle, containing from about 
ten to twenty skins, lightly pressed and corded, is ready 
for transportation. 

" During the hunt, regardless of Indian vicinity, the 
fearless trapper wanders far and near in search of 
** sign." His nerves must ever be in a state of tension 
and his mind ever present at his call. His eagle eye 
sweeps around the country, and in an instant detects 
any foreign appearance. A turned leaf, a blade oi 
grass pressed down, the uneasiness of wild animals, 
the flight of birds, are all paragraphs to him written 



A NEW HOME. 317 

in nature's Icgiole hand and plainest language. All the 
wits of the subtle savage are called into play to gain 
an advantage over the wily woodsman ; but with the 
instinct of the primitive man, the white hunter has the 
advantage of a civilised mind, and thus provided 
seldom fails to outwit, under equal advantages, the 
cunning savage. 

''Sometimes the Indian following on his trai) 
watches him set his traps on a shrub-belted stream, 
and passing up the bed, like Bruce of old, so that he 
may leave no track, he lies in wait in the bushes until 
the hunter comes to examine. Then waiting until he 
approaches his ambush within a few feet, whiz flies 
the home-drawn arrow, never failing at such close 
quarters to bring the victim to the ground. For one 
white scalp, however, that dangles in the smoke of an 
Indian lodge, a dozen black ones at the end of the 
hunt ornament the camp-fire of the rendezvous. 

"At a certain time when the hunt is over, or they 
have loaded their pack animals, the trappers proceed 
tc their rendezvous, the locality of which has been 
previously agreed upon ; and here the traders and 
agents of the fur companies await them, with such 
assortments of goods as their hardy customers may 
require, including generally a fair supply of alcohol 
The trappers drop in singly and in small bands, 
bringing their packs 01 beaver to this mountain 



3l8 DANIEL BOONE. 

market, not unfrequently to the value of a thousand 
dollars each, the produce of one hunt. The dissipation 
of the rendezvous, however, soon turns the trapper's 
pocket inside out. The goods brought by the traders, 
although of the most inferior quality, are sold at 
enormous prices. Coffee twenty and thirty shillings a 
pint cup, which is the usual measure ; tobacco fetches 
ten and fifteen shillings a plug ; alcohol from twenty 
to fifty shillings a pint ; gun-powder sixteen shillings 
a pint cup, and all other articles at proportionately 
exhorbitant prices. 

" The rendezvous is one continued scene of drunken- 
ness, gambling, brawling and fighting, so long as the 
money and credit of the trappers last. Seated Indian 
fashion around the fires, with a blanket spread before 
them, groups are seen with their "decks" of cards 
playing at "euchre," "poker," and seven-up," the 
regular mountain games. The stakes are beaver, 
which is here current coin ; and when the fur is gone, 
their horses, mules, rifles and shirts, hunting packs and 
breeches are staked. Daring gamblers make the 
rounds of the camp, challenging each other to play 
for the highest stake — his horse, his squaw if he 
have one, and as once happened his scalp. A trapper 
often squanders the produce of his hunt, amounting to 
hundreds of dollars, in a couple of hours ; and supplied 
on credit with another equipment, leaves the rendez- 



A NEW HOME. ^ 3I9 

vous for another expedition which has the same result, 
time after time, although one tolerably successful 
hunt would enable him to return to the settlements 
and civilised life with an ample sum to purchase and 
stock a farm, and enjoy himself in ease and comfort 
for the remainder of his days. 

" These annual gatherings are often the scene of 
bloody duels, for over their cups and cards no men 
are more quarrelsome than your mountaineers. Rifles 
at twenty paces settle all differences, and as may be 
imagined, the fall of one or other of the combatants 
is certain, or, as sometimes happens, both fall at the 
same fire." * 

* Buxton's Travels. 






CHAPTER XIV. 

Conclusion. 

Colonel Boone Appeals to Congress. — Complimentary R(«olatlon8 oi 
the Legflslature of Kentucky. — Death of Mrs. Boone. — Catholic 
Liberality. — Itinerant Preachers. — Grant by Congress to Colonel 
Boone — The Evening of his Days. — Personal Appearance. — Death 
and Burial. — ^Transference of the Remains of Mr, and Mi's, Boone 
to Frankfort, Kentucky, 

Colonel Boone having lost all his property, sent in 
a memorial, by the advice of his friends, to the 
Legislature of Kentucky, and also another to Congress. 
Kentucky was now a wealthy and populous State, 
and was not at all indisposed to recognise the 
invaluable services she had received from Colonel 
Boone. In allusion to these services Governor 
Moorehead said : 

" It is not assuming too much to declare, that 
without Colonel Boone, in all probability the settle- 
ments could not have been upheld ; and the conquest 
of Kentucky might have been reserved for the 
emigrants of the nineteenth century." 

What obstacle stood in the way of a liberal grant 
of land by the Kentucky Legislature we do not know. 
We simply know that by a unanimous vote of that 
body, the following preamble and resolution were 
passed : 

(820) 



CONCLUSION. 32 B 

** The Legislature of Kentucky, taking into view 
the many eminent services rendered by Colonel 
Boone, in exploring and settling the western country^ 
from which great advantages have resulted, not only 
to this State, but to this country in general, and that 
from circumstances over which he had no control, he 
is now reduced to poverty; not having, so far as 
appears, an acre of land out of the vast territory he 
has been a great instrument in peopling ; believing 
also that it is as unjust as it is impolitic, that useful 
enterprise and eminent services should go unrewarded 
by a Government where merit confers the only dis- 
tinction ; and having sufficient reason to believe that 
a grant of ten thousand acres of land, which he claims 
in Upper Louisiana, would have been confirmed by 
the SpanishGovemment,had not said territory passed 
by cession into the hands of the General Government;, 
therefore 

"Resolved by the General Assembly of the Com- 
monwealth of Kentucky: That our Senators in 
Congress be requested to make use of their exertions 
to procure a grant of land in said territory to said 
Boone, either the ten thousand acres to which he 
appears to have an equitable claim, from the grounds 
set forth to this Legislature, by way of confirmation, 
or to such quantity in such place as shall be deemed 
most advisable by way of donation." 



J22 DANIEL BOONE. 

While this question was pending before Congress 
Colonel Boone met with the heaviest grief he had 
thus far encountered. In the month of March, 1813, 
his wife, whom he tenderly loved, died at the age of 
seventy-six. She had been one of the best of wives and 
mothers, seeking in all things to coniform to the wishes 
of her husband, and aid him in his plans. She was a de- 
voted wife and a loving mother. Colonel Boone selected 
upon the summit of a ridge the place for her burial, 
and marked out the spot for his own grave by her side. 

We have no means of knowing what were the 
religious views which sustained Mrs. Roone in her 
dying hour. Her life was passed in the discharge of 
the humble duties of a home in the wilderness, and 
she had no biographer. But we do know that the 
religion of Jesus had penetrated many of these remote 
cabins, and had ennobled the lives of many of these 
hardy pioneers. 

Under the Spanish Government, the Roman Catho- 
lic Religion was the established religion of the province, 
and none other was openly tolerated. Still, the 
authorities were so anxious to encourage emigration 
from the United States, that they avoided any rigorous 
enforcement of the law. Each emigrant was required 
to be "a good Catholic," un bon Catholique. But by 
connivance of the authorities, only a few genera] 
questions were asked, such as : 



CONCLUSION. 323 

" Do you believe in Almighty God ? in the Holy 
Trinity ? in the true Apostolic Church ? in Jesus 
Christ our Saviour ? in the Holy Evangelists ?" 

The ceremony was closed by the declaration that 
the applicant was tin bon Catholique. Thus many 
Protestant families entered the Spanish territory, and 
remaaned undisturbed in their religious principles. 
Protestant clergymen crossed over the Mississippi 
river and, unmolested, preached the gospel in the log 
cabins of the settlers. The Catholic priests received 
their salaries from the Spanish crown, and no taxes 
for religion were imposed. 

The Reverend John Clark, a very zealous Christian 
minister, made monthly excursions to the Spanish 
territory. The commandant at St. Louis, Mr. Trudeau, 
would take no notice of his presence till the time 
when he knew that Mr. Clark was about to leave. 
Then he would send a threatening message ordering 
him to leave within three days. One of the emigrants, 
Mr. Murich, of the Baptist persuasion, petitioned for 
permission to hold religious meetings at his house and 
to have Mr. Clark preach. Mr. Trudeau replied : 

" You must not put a bill upon your house, or call 
!t a church. But if any of your friends choose to 
meet at your house, sing, pray, and talk about religion, 
you will not be molested provided you continue, as I 
iuppose you are, U7i bo?i Catholique" 



324 DANIEL BOONE. 

Thus, in reality, there was scarcely any restrahit In 
those remote regions, even under the Spanish regime, 
imposed upon religious freedom. Christian song^ 
the penitential and the triumphant, often ascended, 
blended with prayers and praises from these lonely 
and lowly homes in the wilderness. Thus characters 
were formed for heaven, and life was ennobled, and 
often far more of true nobility of soul and more real 
and satisfying enjoyment were found in those log 
huts, illumined only by the blaze of the pitch pine 
knot, than Louis XIV. and his courtiers ever ex- 
perienced amidst the splendors and the luxuries of 
Versailles and of Marly. 

We do not know that Colonel Boone ever made a 
public profession of his faith in Christ, though some- 
where we have seen it stated that he died an honored 
member of the Methodist Church. It is certain that 
the religious element predominated in his nature. He 
was a thoughtful, serious, devout, good man. He 
walked faithfully in accordance with the light and the 
privileges which were conferred upon him in his sin- 
gularly adventurous life. 

Colonel Boone was seventy-nine years of age when 
Congress conferred upon him a grant of eight hundred 
and fifty acres of land. He had never repined at his 
lot, had never wasted his breath in unavailing mur- 
murs. He contentedly took life as it came, and was 



CONCLUSION. 325 

ever serene and cheerful. But this grant of land, 
though it came so late, greatly cheered him. He was 
no longer dependent upon others. He had property 
irapidly increasing in value to leave to the children 
and the grand-children he so tenderly loved. His 
aged limbs would no longer allow him to expose him- 
self to the vicissitudes of hunting, and he took up his 
abode with one of his sons, enjoying, perhaps, as 
serene and happy an old age as ever fell to the lot of 
mortals. His conversation often gathered charmed 
listeners around him, for he had a very retentive 
memory, and his mind was crowded with the incidents 
of his romantic career. It is said that at this period 
of his life an irritable expression never escaped his 
lips. His grand-children vied with each other in 
affectionate attentions to one whom they ardently 
loved, and of whose celebrity they were justly proud. 

Colonel Calloway, the gentleman whose two 
daughters were captured, with one of the daughters 
of Colonel Boone, in a boat by the Indians, which 
event our readers will recall to mind, visited Colonel 
Boone in Missouri about this time. He gives a very 
pleasing description of the gentle and genial old man, 
as he then found him. 

His personal appearance was venerable and attrac- 
tive, verj' neatly clad in garments spun, woven, and 
made in the cabin His own room consisted of a 



526 DANIEL BOONE. 

cabin by itself, and was in perfect order. ** Hii 

countenance was pleasant, calm, and fair, his foreliead 
high and bold, and the soft silvei of his hair in unison 
«vith his length of days. He spoke feelingly and 
with solemnity of being a creature of Providence, 
ordained by heaven as a pioneer in the wilderness to 
advance the civilization and the extension of his 
country. He professed the belief that the Almighty 
had assigned to him a work to perform, and that he 
had only followed the pathway of duty in the work 
he had pursued ; that he had discharged his duty to 
God and his country by following the direction of 
Providence." His stormy day of life had passed away 
into an evening of unusual beauty and serenity. 

Still he was continually busy, engaged in innu- 
merable acts of kindness for his neighbors and his 
friends. He could repair rifles, make and carve 
powder horns of great beauty, and could fashion 
moccasins and snowshoes of the most approved 
patterns. His love for the solitude of the wilderness, 
and for the excitement of the hunter's life, continued 
unabated. He loved to cut tender slices of venison, 
and to toast them upon the end of his ramrod ovcf 
the glaring coals of his cabin fire, finding in that 
repast a treat more delicious than any gourmand 
ever yet experienced in the viands of the most costly 
restaurants of the Palais Royal, or the Boulevaid* 



CONCLUSION. 327 

Upon one occasion he could not resist the impulse 
of again going hunting, though in the eighty-second 
year of his age. Exacting from his friends the pro- 
mise that should he die, his remains should be brought 
back and buried by the side of those of his wife, he 
took a boy with him and went to the mouth of the 
Kansas River, where he remained two weeks. 

Returning from this, his last expedition, he visited 
his young v:st son. Major Nathan Boone, who had reared 
a comfortable stone house in that remote region, to 
which emigrants were now rapidly moving. Here he 
died after an illnes? of but three days, on the 26th 
day of September, 1820. He was then eighty-six 
years of age. 

Soon after the death of his wife, Colonel Boone 
made his own coffin, which he kept under his bed 
awaiting the day of his burial. In this coffin he was 
buried by the side of his wife. Missouri, though very 
different from the Missouri of the present day, was no 
longer an unpeopled wilderness. The Indians had 
retired ; thousands of emigrants had flocked to its 
fertile plains, and many thriving settlements had 
sprung up along the banks of its magnificent streams. 
The great respect with which Colonel Boone was 
iegarded by his fellow-citizens, was manifest in the 
large numbers who were assembled at his burial. 
The Legislature of Missouri, which chanced then to 



328 DANIEL BOONE. 

be in session, adjourned for one day, in respect for 
his memory, and passed a resolve that all the members 
should wear a badge of mourning for twenty days. 
This was the first Legislature of the new State. 

Colonel Boone was the father of nine children, five 
Bons and four daughters. His two eldest sons were 
killed by the Indians. His third son, Daniel Morgan 
Boone, had preceded his father in his emigration to 
the Upper Louisiana, as it was then called, and had 
taken up his residence in the Femme Osage settle- 
ment. He became a man of influence and comparative 
wealth, and attained the advanced age of fourscore. 
Jesse, the fourth son, also emigrated to Upper 
Louisiana about the year 1806, where he died a few 
years after. The youngest son, Nathan, whose 
privilege it was to close his father's eyes in death, had 
found a home beyond the Mississippi ; he became a 
man of considerable note, and received the commission 
of Captain in the United States Dragoons. The 
daughters, three of whom married, lived and died in 
Kentucky. 

In the meantime Kentucky, which Boone had 
found a pathless wilderness, the hunting ground of 
Indians who were scarcely less wild and savage 
than the beasts they pursued in the chase, was 
rapidly becoming one of the most populous, wealtliy 
and prosperous States in the Union. Upon the eastern 



CONCLUSION. 329 

bank of the Kentucky River, the beautiful city of 
Frankfort had risen surrounded by remarkably roman- 
tic and splendid scenery. It had become the capital 
of the State, and was situated about sixty miles from 
the entrance of the Kentucky into the Ohio River., 
Many of the houses were tastefully built of brick or 
of marble, and the place was noted for its polished, 
intelligent; and hospitable society. 

It was but a few miles above Frankfort upon this 
same river that Colonel Boone had reared the log 
fort of Boonesborough, when scarcely a white man 
could be found west of the AUeghanies. In the year 
1845, th^ citizens of Frankfort, having, in accordance 
with the refinements of modem tastes, prepared a 
beautiful rural cemetery in the suburbs of their town, 
resolved to consecrate it by the interment of the 
remains of Daniel Boone and his wife. The Legis- 
lature, appreciating the immense obligations of the 
State to the illustrious pioneer, co-operated with the 
citizens of Frankfort in this movement. For twenty - 
five years the remains of Col. Boone and his wife had 
been mouldering in the grave upon the banks of the 
Missouri. 

*' There seemed," said one of the writers of that day, 
**to be a peculiar propriety in this testimonial of the 
veneration borne by the Commonwealth for the 
memory of its illustrious dead. And it was fitting 



330 DANIEL BOONE. 

that the soil of Kentucky should afford the final 
resting place for his remains, whose blood in life had 
been so often shed to protect it from the fury of 
savage hostility. It was the beautiful and touching 
manifestation of filial affection shown by children to 
the memory of a beloved parent ; and it was right that 
the generation which was reaping the fruits of his 
toils and dangers should desire to have in their midst 
and decorate with the tokens of their love, the sepul- 
chre of this Primeval Patriarch whose stout heart 
watched by the cradle of this now powerful Common- 
wealth." 

The honored remains of Daniel Boone and his wife 
were brought from Missouri to Frankfort, and the 
re-interment took place on the 13th of September, 
1845. The funeral ceremonies were very imposing. 
Colonel Richard M. Johnson, who had been Vice- 
President of the United States, and others of the most 
distinguished citizens of Kentucky, officiated as pall- 
bearers. The two coffins were garlanded with flowers, 
and an immenjs^e procession followed them to their 
final resting place. The Hon. John J. Crittenden, 
who was regarded as the most eloquent man in the 
State, pronounced the funeral oration. And there 
beneath an appropriate monument, the body of Daniel 



CONCLUSION. 

Boone now lies, awaiting the summons of the resurrec 
rion trumpet. 

" Life's labor done, securely laid 
In this his last retreat, 
Unheeded o'er his silent dust, 
The storms of earth shall beat." 



THE END. 



JUN S8 1900 



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